


An Old Fashioned Love

by totallyrhettro



Category: rhink - Fandom
Genre: 1920s, Allusions to assault, Allusions to non-consent, Anal Sex, Eventual Sex, Falling In Love, False Identity, First Kiss, First Time, Gay Sex, Gun Violence, Happy Ending, Happy endings guaranteed, Heartache, Heavy Petting, Love Song, M/M, Making Out, Minor Medical, Minor Violence, Music, Photoshop, Pining, Sex, minor alcohol use, rhink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-13 19:19:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14119158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallyrhettro/pseuds/totallyrhettro
Summary: A lonely shopkeeper meets a mistreated waiter in 1920′s New York





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AU where Rhett and Link did not grow up together, don’t know each other prior to this story, and begin as single men living in 1920s New York City.

It was early morning, just thirty minutes before open hours, when a very tall man with dirty blond hair was sweeping the steps of a small corner store in New York City. Rhett McLaughlin, a young man from Georgia, had been working in what used to be his uncle’s shop for over a year now. When he moved up north to pursue his dream of being a musician, Rhett was filled with naive notions of becoming famous, but quickly learned that fame was more fickle than he had anticipated. Instead of hitting the big time, he found himself broke and in desperate need of work in short order.

His uncle, Roger McLaughlin, had owned this small store for years and happily gave his nephew a job, helping customers and cleaning up. When the old man passed away a few months ago, Rhett became the sole employee (and proprietor) of the establishment, but took it in stride. He handled becoming shopkeeper quite nicely and the business did well under his ownership.

It was a simple (if somewhat dull) existence, but he was relatively happy. He had a job, a place to live, and met many an interesting person in his daily routine. Sure, it wasn’t glamorous, but he found that the little things could really make his day.

As he cleaned the small steps of dirt and debris that had somehow collected overnight, he waited for one part of his daily routine that he most looked forward to. The one thing in the whole world that made the days light up every morning more than the sun ever could. The clock read 8:34 and, right on time, a dark-haired figure rounded the corner and started walking past the shop.

He stood about six feet tall, over half a foot shorter than Rhett, and his freshly shaven face was a stark contrast to the shopkeeper’s bushy beard. A black fedora with a white ribbon covered most of his raven hair, and a long, brown coat hung loosely over his broad shoulders. His clothes were somewhat disheveled, worn down from years of overuse, and his black shoes looked like they had been shined many times. He always had a somber look on his face, but his piercing blue eyes held a tiny sparkle that never failed to make Rhett smile.

Just like every day, this nameless man walked briskly down the sidewalk, clearly with a place to be. Rhett guessed he was on his way to work and wondered where that was. He desperately wanted to ask this stranger his name, but instead, just like every morning, he only managed a short pleasantry and a smile.

“Morning, sir,” he’d say, sometimes with a short wave.

“Morning,” the stranger would answer, usually managing a tired smile, but never really looking back. Then he’d pass on by down the street, on his way to who-knows-where. Even though their exchange could barely be classified as a conversation, Rhett lived for those few seconds. He wished he was brave enough to say more, sometimes he even going so far as to rehearse something to ask, but when the moment came, he’d always chicken out and just smile.

Evenings were much the same, as the stranger was no doubt making his way back home. He wasn’t as punctual at night, sometimes passing by as Rhett was locking up, while other times he wouldn’t pass by at all. The blond man wondered if maybe he worked late some nights. Sometimes he would wait to lock up, hoping to catch the stranger coming by, but it usually didn’t help. The nights he did pass by, he always looked dead tired, dark bags under his eyes. Sometimes he looked like he would fall asleep in the road.

“Good night, sir,” Rhett would say, as he turned the ‘open’ sign around.

“Good night,” the stranger would reply, trying to sound cheerful, and that was that. That was the extent of their social interactions but though it was meager, Rhett thrived on every word.

After the dark-haired man left his sight, the shopkeeper sighed to himself, turned and headed back inside. He closed up his shop for the night before going upstairs, away from the hustle and bustle of the main streets. There, above the shop, was a modest, one-room apartment. It didn’t look like much, but he didn’t need much. A simple man with simple needs, Rhett was perfectly happy where he was.

After eating a quick meal, he sat down on the edge of his bed and picked up the one thing he had in his life he couldn’t bear to live without: his guitar. Though he didn’t think he’d ever go back to trying to be a musician, he still loved to play. He knew few songs, but played them all beautifully. Some nights he would just strum mindless cords, feeling the music flow over him like a blanket. Then he would lay down and sleep, dreaming about music and the blue-eyed stranger, until the morning called for him to start the day all over again.

Living paycheck to paycheck, trying save up enough to buy a real house, Rhett didn’t have much time for social activities outside of work. He did have one friend, however, an adventurous young man named Robert Patel, a friend he’d met back when he first moved to New York. Robert was a go-getter, a man of the city. He worked as a nightclub assistant and lived off his dad’s meager money. He could be a bit of a cad, but he was a good and loyal friend, and Rhett appreciated his company when he had the time.

“You spend too much time in this place,” Robert would say, lamenting a shopkeeper’s obligations. “You’re living in the center of excitement, you’ve got to get out and see it!” Rhett agreed wholeheartedly, but running a store left little time for such activities.

“There’s this place I found, just around the corner,” his friend suggested one evening. “You’ve got to see it. It’s wild.”

“Wild?” Rhett was a bit hesitant to find out what was meant by ‘wild’. From what he’d seen of this city, wild was getting wilder all the time.

“Don’t be a drag, it’ll be the cat’s meow!”

“Well, what is it?” Robert gave the store a cursory glance, making sure no one was listening in, before answering.

“Speakeasy,” he whispered, “over on 131st.”

“I don’t really drink.” Alcohol had been deemed illegal years ago and Rhett had never been one to thwart the law.

“I know, but that’s not the only reason to go. The place is loaded with skirts.” He winked playfully, clearly excited at the prospect of meeting new women. Rhett hesitated. It’s not that he had been overly secretive about his sexuality, but he hadn’t been very open about it either. He knew that here, in the big city, gay men weren’t looked down on, though much of the world did seem to view them much like they viewed women: as second class citizens. They weren’t minded, but they weren’t exactly equal.

“I don’t, uh, I’d rather not,” Rhett sputtered out. He turned away from his friend, busying himself with cleaning something to hide the slight blush coming over his face.

“Look at you. You turn bluenose when I wasn’t lookin’?”

“I am not a prude, I just-”

“Good! I’ll be back tonight to pick you up.” Believing the conversation finished, Robert turned and headed out of the store. Rhett sighed. It had been too long since he went out for fun. Maybe he could actually have a good time. He knew speakeasies usually had musicians performing and he did enjoy hearing them play.

That evening, after closing the store up, he dressed in blue-grey pants and coat, white shirt and a black tie. He had trimmed his beard neatly and slicked his hair back before covering it in a grey homburg. Robert had a similar look, but in shades of brown, and a trilby instead of a homburg on his head. He looked himself over, then his tall friend, who was cleaning his wire-rimed glasses.

“I think we look swell, Rhett. The ladies are gonna be stuck on us tonight!”

The speakeasy wasn’t very far away, as it turned out. Only a ten minute journey, walking. ‘Connie’s Inn’ read the vertical sign, all lit up and flashing. Crowds of men and women swarmed the street out front, some going in while others just passing by. It looked almost innocuous; no obvious signs that alcohol was being served, illegally, within.

Inside, it looked like a normal restaurant, with patrons eating food and waitresses scurrying about. Robert ignored the staff and led Rhett to a door in the back where a large, muscular man stood. Robert gave the man a look.

“We’re here for the party,” he whispered. The man nodded and moved out of the way. The door led to a narrow stairway which descended into the basement. At the bottom, a second door opened up into a much larger room: the speakeasy itself. A young, flapper girl greeted the two men as they made their way inside. She seated them at a table and Robert gave his friend a huge grin.

“What’d I tell ya?” he said. “Is this place the bee’s knees or what?” Rhett didn’t know what to say. He was quite taken aback that this place even existed. He looked around, getting a feel for the place, and noted that while there were many woman waiting tables, there was a decent amount of men as well. After a minute, one of the male waiters, in a black shirt, matching pants, a white tie and suspenders came up to them. He smiled broadly.

“Evening gents,” he said. “Name’s Neal, what can I get for you?” Rhett turned to say something but when he looked at the waiter his voice caught in his throat. His green eyes locked with blue ones. He knew those eyes, that face. It was the stranger, the same man Rhett had stared at everyday for months, and for the first time ever, those blue eyes were looking right back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo Source ([X](http://totallyrhettro.tumblr.com/post/125989075750/mythical-rhink-beautiful-x-outrageous))


	2. Chapter 2

When Rhett didn’t say anything, his friend Robert took charge.

“Bring me a bronx and an orange blossom for my friend, here.”

“Coming right up,” the waiter said. As he walked off, Rhett felt his eyes wander along the backside of the tight pants the man was wearing. He heard his companion fake a cough and he immediately turned back, blushing slightly. Robert gave a small chuckle.

“Oh, I see,” he said, coyly. “I didn’t know your bread was buttered _that_ way.”

“I don’t know what your talking about.” Rhett avoided his gaze, pretending to be very interested in the table’s decoration.

“Hey, I’m not razzing you, I’m just making an observation. Don’t matter to me none what you like.” He leaned over and whispered, “more dames for me.” While Rhett was glad his friend wasn’t put off by the idea, he wasn’t keen on fully admitting the truth just yet. He had a business to run, and many of his customers might lose respect for him if they knew the truth.

When the waiter came back with their drinks, Rhett tried to avoid eye contact, choosing instead to focus his attention on the beverage his friend had ordered for him. As he tentatively tasted the mysterious orange liquid, Robert spoke to the waiter.

“Thanks, Neal. Say, is that a first name or a last?”

“It is my last name, sir.”

“Swell. I’m Robert Patel, and this here,” he patted Rhett on the back, causing him to almost spill his drink, “is Rhett McLaughlin.”

“Nice to meet you both. You new to Connie’s?” Rhett thought he heard a slight southern accent, hidden somewhere in the waiter’s voice.

“Not me, no.” Robert glanced at Rhett, a mischievous look in his eye. “But my friend here, well he doesn’t get out much.” Mr. Neal turned his gaze to Rhett, who could only smile, weakly, in affirmation. He felt incredibly embarrassed by his friend putting him on display; he wanted to crawl into a deep, dark hole and hide.

“Well, welcome sir. You let me know if you need anything.” Mr. Neal’s smile was warm and inviting, and the small wink accompanying it made the blond’s heart skip a beat. When the waiter left their table for the second time, Robert gave a small laugh before starting on his drink.

“I told you you’d like it here,” he whispered. Rhett slouched back in his chair and let out a long breath.

As the evening progressed, Rhett found himself glancing around the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of this Mr. Neal. After awhile it got harder to see through the thick crowd as more people poured into the joint. A small band started playing music, but he couldn’t enjoy it. Then, whenever the waiter returned with refills of their drinks, he could only smile and utter soft words of thanks in a shy voice.

“You need to be more assertive,” Robert told him. Rhett just shook his head.

“I’ve had enough. Can we go now?” After paying for their drinks, the two men headed back up to the streets. It was fairly early, and Robert still wanted to party, but Rhett was ready to head home for the evening.

“Alright,” his friend sighed. “Just let me water this dumpster real quick.” As Robert relieved himself in the alley, Rhett did his best to look anywhere else. Suddenly, he heard a door down the alley open. He turned and saw someone exit the back entrance of the restaurant. It was Mr. Neal, wearing his brown coat and black fedora. As Rhett watched, the waiter leaned against the building and lit up a cigarette.

Robert quickly finished his business and walked over to where his friend was standing as he zipped up his fly.

“Alright let’s…” He noticed his drinking buddy was focused on something very intently and he looked to see what it was. After a moment, he leaned over and whispered, “Go talk to him, already.” Rhett swallowed hard, gathering his courage, and slowly made his way down the alley, removing his hat as he got closer. Mr. Neal gave a casual glance as the man approached, but didn’t say anything.

“Uh, hi, um…” Rhett felt his heart in his throat as he nervously tried to start a conversation. Mr. Neal just looked straight ahead, mindlessly sucking on his cigarette. “I uh, I’m Rhett… McLaughlin.”

“I remember,” Mr. Neal replied, sounding a fair bit less friendly than he had in the bar. Clearly he was on break or off work, when he didn’t have to be nice to customers.

“Right. Look I don’t… I don’t know if… if you, uh..” Rhett glanced back at Robert, completely unsure of himself, but his friend just smiled at him. The waiter dropped his cigarette on the ground and crushed it under his shoe. He looked up at the tall man before him and gave a sad grin.

“Look,” he started, dropping his hands into his coat pockets. “I’m sorry buddy, but I don’t date customers.” Rhett blushed, his mouth slightly ajar from surprise.

“Yeah, no I just, uh…” He adjusted his glasses, nervously.

“See ya.” With that, Mr. Neal brushed past him, completely ignored Robert, then headed off into the night. Rhett’s shoulders sagged. This was as close as he had ever gotten to openly talking to someone he liked, someone he _‘like-liked’_ , and he was crushed. Sure, it could have gone a lot worse, but he just felt like a complete idiot talking to cute guys in an alley.

With his tail between his legs, he shuffled back over to his friend. Immediately, Robert could read his face and know how it had gone. He patted his friend’s back, reassuringly.

“Can’t win 'em all,” he noted.

Link Neal made his way home from work, taking the same route he took every evening, passing by the small corner store he saw twice a day, everyday. Like every building he past, he took no notice. It wasn’t anything special.

His own home, an apartment just south of the city, was even less special. It housed a few dozen men, women, and families, none of whom could afford anything better and Link fit right in. Five stories of run down architecture and fading paint, the building seemed to reflect the broken down tenets within.

Link passed by the few homeless people who were even worse off than him, unable to pay the meager rent required to live in the poor excuse for a home. They didn’t ask him for change; they knew him well enough to know he didn’t have a dime to spare. No one who actually lived here did.

Unlocking his door, which barely hung onto its rusting hinges, the brunet stepped into the small flat. The familiar scent of mildew and mold greeted his nose, but he was used to it by now. It smelled that way when he moved in and it probably would smell that way until the day it fell down.

He hung up his coat and hat by the door, sliding his shoes off and setting them near by. He didn’t have much, and what he had was all second hand at best, but he kept things as neat as he could. A place for everything, and everything in his place. Sometimes order in his home was the only thing keeping him sane.

In a small, side room converted into a bedroom he removed all the clothes he had worn that day. As his uniform for work, they needed to be kept in the best condition possible so they were not to be slept in or even worn when lounging about. He quickly hung them up so they could be worn again. To save money on utilities, he washed clothes only once a week. Luckily the scent of the speakeasy overwhelmed his own stank when he worked and he got away with wearing the same outfit for several days.

He checked his closet. Similar styled shirts and pants were hung with care, each neatly ironed. Despite how much use these precious few articles of clothing had seen, they were in relatively good condition. He had to make sure they were, if not for his own sanity then for his safety. His boss, Mr. Stevens, didn’t look kindly on employees that didn’t meet his standards.

After a small meal of cereal, he settled onto his lumpy mattress and threw a ragged blanket over himself. It wasn’t much, but it kept him warm. He didn’t think much about it now. As he lay there, trying to fall asleep, his mind was drawn back to those few minutes in the alleyway behind Connie’s, and that tall stranger that had approached him. McLaughlin, he had said. He had looked so familiar, but Link couldn’t quite place his face. Where did he know him from?

He tried to place the name, and the man, but to no avail. Surely that man would be hard to forget if he had met him somewhere else. Link had met many men in his life, but none who were that tall… that handsome…

’ _Handsome?_ ’ He opened his eyes. The word had come to him seemingly out of nowhere, but the more he thought about it, the more obvious it was. The man had been very handsome, in a rugged sort of way. Link liked the way his tall hair made him look even taller, the way his eyes twinkled in the dim street light. He had such a sweet manner about him, and the brunet began to regret how he had reacted to his approach.

’ _He didn’t mean any harm,_ ’ he thought to himself. ’ _Maybe I should have talked to him more… I shouldn’t have been so cold._ ’ As he closed his eyes, he resolved to make up for his rude behavior. Maybe he could apologize, but how? He had no idea where he worked, or lived. He wasn’t sure if he would ever see him again. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he ever did.

The next morning Rhett swept the steps just like he always did. He was in surprisingly high spirits, pleased that he didn’t have a hangover, despite not being used to drinking. Last night had left him in a sour mood, but today was going to be different. He was going to _make_ it different. He glanced at the clock, eagerly waiting for the moment to arrive. Right on time, 8:34, just like the day before, the stranger came around the bend. Rhett prepared to give his usual cheerful smile, but this time, there would be a bit of a change in his traditional greeting.

As the raven-haired man approached his store, Rhett paused and gave a small wave.

“Good morning, Mr. Neal,” he said. The waiter turned his head sharply, looking very surprised. His mornings, like his days and nights, had always been very routine, and though he had passed by this shop everyday and answered this tall man’s greeting everyday, he now looked at him as if he had never seen him before.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Mr. McLaughlin, Good morning.” He stopped walking, something else that had never happened before. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Yup. I own the place, actually.” Rhett beamed, proudly. Mr. Neal’s usual half-hearted smile was replaced with one of genuine sincerity. He looked over the place, now really looking for the first time, clearly impressed by the small establishment. After a moment, he looked back at Rhett, then got a slightly embarrassed look on his face.

“Well, I need to get to work,” he said. “Good day, Mr. McLaughlin.”

“Good day, Mr. Neal.” As the shorter man headed off down the street, Rhett went inside his shop, a bit sad he’d have to wait a whole day to see that man again. Yet that entire day seemed far brighter than any before it. Even the customers could tell there was a bit more spring in his step than usual. That evening, the two men greeted each other in a much similar fashion as that morning.

“Have a good night, Mr. Neal,” Rhett smiled, as the man walked by, not stopping this time.

“Good night, Mr. McLaughlin,” he answered. It was not much progress, but at least he wasn’t 'the stranger’ anymore.

That’s how it went, as the days progressed. Ever the shy one, Rhett didn’t add anything to this new routine. He was eager to say more, now that he knew more about the man he had a crush on, but he didn’t want to scare him away. Besides, he felt it would probably be inappropriate to be anything more than an an acquaintance. Mr. Neal had made it quite clear that one night in the alley: they couldn’t be anything more.

Still, Rhett couldn’t help but dream. Often times when his shop was devoid of customers, or when he lay in bed, trying to sleep, he’d let his mind wander to that blue-eyed waiter and his handsome, boyish face. He never imagined anything obscene; he was raised a southern gentleman, and he always tried to act and think like one. He did, however occasionally, let himself wonder what it would be like to kiss those lips, caress that jawline, run his fingers through that raven hair…

He considered his fantasy to be no more than just that: a fantasy, something to think about but not to act on. He busied himself with running his store and tried not to believe that anything could happen between them, even though deep inside he desperately wanted it to.


	3. Chapter 3

Link was taking a short smoking break outside of Connie’s Inn when a fellow member of the wait staff came out to the back alley to join him. She was a young, flapper girl by the name of Vicky. She had short, blonde hair and pretty brown eyes. The two of them had worked together at the speakeasy for a few months. He had worked there longer, but she had more experience waiting tables.

They had become fast friends. She taught him the tricks of the trade, like remembering people’s orders easier and how to flirt with customers to get bigger tips. He offered her a shoulder to cry on when things got rough, and an ear when ever she needed someone to talk to. Like Link, Vicky had come to New York with big dreams but ended up just serving others. She kept a sunny mood most days though, which was more than could be said of the brunet.

“What’s eating you, fella?” she asked, searching Link’s face. He could keep a bright face while he worked, but it was exhausting and he spared no energy for it on his break. He shrugged, not really in the mood for talking.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“I can see that. You’ve been ‘thinking’ for days now.” She grabbed Link’s cigarette and took a quick puff. “Who you thinking about?”

“What makes you think it’s a person?”

“Trust me. I know that face. You’re stuck on someone, I can just tell.” She took another puff, smirking sweetly and Link sighed.

“I don’t know if I’m stuck on him. I don’t even know him.”

“Well, why don’t you find out? I can’t stand you this way. You need to do something to get out of these blues.” Another puff. “Do I know him?” Link gently took his cigarette back and took a short drag.

“I doubt it. He’s only been here once. He made a pass at me…”

“That’s a good sign, right? Please tell me you played it smooth.” Link looked embarrassed.

“I blew him off… I wasn’t thinking!” he explained quickly, when Vicky gave him a look. “I was tired and you know how it is. Guys trying to pick you up. You know, you got guys sweet on you all the time.”

“Not enough cute guys, believe me. If he’s sweet on you, I’m sure he’ll come back and see you. What else do you know about him?”

“He owns the corner store, down the road?”

“Oh I’ve seen him!” She grinned. “He’s a sheik one. You should go visit his store.”

“His store will be closed by the time I get off work. Mr. Stevens is working me to the bone this week.” He threw his finished cigarette butt on the ground, dejected.

“What about now?”

“What _about_ now?” Link repeated, confused.

“Yeah now. It’s not that far. You could make a quick visit and be back before anyone notices.” The idea was crazy, but after thinking about it for a few seconds, Link fell in love with it. He did want the chance to apologize and, if he was honest, he had been putting off making an appearance.

“You know what? I will.”

“Now you’re on the trolley!” Vicky winked, excitedly. Taking one last glance at the steel door that separated the dark alley and the dimly lit establishment, Link hurried off down the road.

Vicky was truly excited for her friend, and she didn’t think anyone would really mind if he took a few minutes off to see his crush, but she was naive. When she went back inside, adjusting her dress to make sure it looked alright, she was greeted by Mr. Stevens, who looked miffed. He always looked like he was in some state of annoyance so she didn’t think anything of it.

“Where’s Neal?” he asked, looking behind her.

“I’m sure he’ll be along.” She moved to end the conversation, but he blocked her path.

“Now I don’t want any lip from you, girl. Tell me where he is.” If the flapper had been smart, she would have answered right then, but she hadn’t worked for Mr. Stevens very long. She didn’t understand his temper had a short fuse. When he didn’t get an immediate response, the large man grabbed her arm tightly, holding her in place.

“I asked you a question. Where is Neal?”

~~~

Rhett was finishing a transaction with a customer when he heard the familiar sound of a ringing bell, indicating someone had just entered the store. He looked up, just as he was telling his customer to have a nice day, to see who had entered, and was almost unable to finish his sentence. The customer didn’t notice as the shopkeeper’s voice caught in his throat, but left the store passing the newcomer on his way out.

“Hello, Mr. McLaughlin,” said the newcomer, meandering through the isles. He removed his black fedora and gave a sheepish smile towards Rhett. His face was unmistakable, and the shopkeeper smiled broadly in return. “Just came in to take a look around.”

“Nice to see you, Mr. Neal.” Rhett closed the cash register and headed around the broad counter, making his way nonchalantly, as he would towards a prospective customer. “Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” Mr. Neal casually glanced around the store.

“Not really. Just having a look-see.” He walked towards the radio sets. As he pretended to be very interested in one of the many on display, he ran his long fingers along the side of one, apparently judging its craftsmen ship.

“Just got that model in last week,” Rhett started, assuming the comfortable role of salesman. “I can show you how it works, if you like.”

“I don’t really have time. I’m supposed to be on a smoke break.” He looked up at Rhett. “I’ll be honest, I’m actually here to see you.” Rhett felt his heart beat a bit faster, but mostly maintained his composure.

“Me?” he asked. Mr. Neal stepped a bit closer, but Rhett couldn’t tell if he was being coy or not. His beautiful face gave nothing away.

“Yes, I… I wanted to apologize… for the other night. I was very brisk with you. I had just gotten off work, it had been a long night… Anyway. I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite alright.” Rhett felt a bit more at ease. This wasn’t flirting, it was an apology. ’ _Just like my mind to make me see things that aren’t there,_ ’ he thought. To Mr. Neal he said “I completely understand. I was probably out of line anyway.”

“I get a lot of guys trying stuff, actually. They see me at the bar and think I’m sweet on them just because I’m friendly, but you weren’t… you don’t seem like you’re like them. You know?” He took another step towards Rhett. “You seem genuinely… nice.” He gave a small but wonderful smile, slightly lop-sided and so endearing. Rhett felt his heart leap at the sight.

“I don’t usually do that sort of thing. Ever. Really.” He suddenly realized he was standing very close to Mr. Neal. The brunet smelled like the bar, of cigarette smoke, beer and some sort of perfume. Underneath it all, however, there was something else, something innately masculine. Rhett swallowed hard, trying to slow his racing heartbeat.

Mr. Neal seemed to think for a second, and was about about to say something when the bell on the shop door rang again, indicating yet another person entering. Slightly flustered Rhett stepped back from him and turned around to see a large, angry man enter the store. The man looked around the room and quickly focused on the two of them.

“Good day, sir,” Rhett started. “How can I-”

“Neal!” the man yelled, completely ignoring the shopkeeper's greeting. He stomped across the room and Mr. Neal visibly cringed in fear. “I was told you’d be here. I’m not paying you to shop.”

“I’m on my break, Mr. Stevens,” the brunet managed to whisper. The large man clenched his jaw, somehow looking even more furious.

“I’ll break you if you don’t get back to work this instant!” He looked at Rhett, who did his best to not be intimidated, before turning back to his employee. “What’re you doing here anyway?”

“Nothing,” Mr. Neal said. He looked almost on the verge of tears, but he seemed resolute not to cry a single one. His boss glared at both of the men before him before sighing, angrily. He jabbed a finger into shorter man’s chest.

“If you’re not back to waiting tables in fifteen minutes, I’m docking you a day’s pay.” With that, he stormed out. Not sparing a single glance at Rhett, Mr. Neal started out to follow, but the shopkeeper placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“You don’t have to put up with that, you know,” he said. The waiter turned his face to look at him and smiled sadly.

“Yes. I do.” The sorrow in his eyes and the certainty in his voice shot a pang through Rhett’s chest. He didn’t know what else to say, but watched as Mr. Neal walked out the door and out of sight.

~~~

That evening, the raven-haired man didn’t pass by Rhett’s store as he was closing up. He didn’t pass by the next morning either. Over the next few days, the shopkeeper didn’t see the waiter at all, not even once, and he began to feel a sense of dread. At one point he closed up the store early and made his way to Connie’s Inn, but no one had heard of Mr. Neal.

’ _Of course not,_ ’ he realized. Mr. Neal didn’t work for the restaurant, he worked at the speakeasy downstairs.

After speaking the code phrase to the bouncer, he made his way down to the secret establishment, but Mr. Neal was nowhere to be seen. It was a bit of a mad house; a band was playing loudly and the place was filled to the brim with patrons in various stages of inebriation. Rhett plowed his way through the crowd, desperate to see the blue-eyed man.

Then, at the far end of the room, there he was. He was chatting with a couple at a booth, looking very cheerful, dressed in the same black clothing as they day they first spoke. Rhett waited until he was stepping away to come up to him, not wanting to make a scene.

“Mr. Neal?” The waiter turned sharply, clearly startled. He didn’t stop walking but slowed to let the other man follow him as he made his way back to the bar.

“Oh, uh, evening sir. Did you need something?” he asked, as if it there couldn’t be a reasonable answer, but he could tell this was no ordinary visit. As Mr. Neal stared into Rhett’s emerald eyes, the blond man suddenly became very self conscious, and couldn’t seem to find one of those reasonable answers to say. After a moment, Mr. Neal just sighed. “I’m working, Mr. McLaughlin. If you want a drink, you’ll have to wait just like everyone else.”

“I don’t want a drink.” Rhett’s voice was firm and certain, and that made the waiter blush. He glanced nervously around.

“If Mr. Stevens sees us talking again, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“Mr. Stevens? Your boss?” Mr. Neal nodded. “What’s wrong with talking?”

“I told you I’m working. Please just-” He stopped short, his eyes focused on the large man approaching. It was the same man from the shop, and he did not look anymore happy now than he did earlier. Mr. Neal turned and looked at Rhett. “Please go.”

“You can’t let him treat you like you’re nothing,” Rhett told him gently. “He can’t do that.” He wanted to stay, to say more, but he couldn’t fight the look in Mr. Neal’s pleading eyes. Before Mr. Stevens could get close enough to speak, Rhett faded back into the crowd and disappeared.

He went back to his store, but didn’t reopen it right away. Instead he went inside and sat on the sofa in the small living room display near the front windows, dropping his head in his hands. He hoped that Mr. Neal would be alright. He didn’t want anything to happen to him, not ever.

As he remembered the look on the brunet’s face, the abject terror and hopelessness, his own sadness turned into anger. He picked up a display glass from the coffee table and threw it against the wall, imagining he was throwing it at Mr. Stevens’ face. It shattered with a satisfying crash, and for a moment he felt better. Then the scowl that had crept onto his face faded and he looked, in shock, at the mess he had created.

After a moment, he went to get a broom to clean up, feeling surprised that he had gotten so emotional. He had seen injustices before, but never had he taken them so personally. Why was this so different?

Of course, the answer was obvious. It was Mr. Neal, it was _always_ Mr. Neal. All those months of watching him pass by, secretly hoping, silently wishing. Then, when he finally knew his name, when he heard his voice, it all became so much more real. He had been alone his whole life, always seeing, never touching, and now, after all this time, he found a reason to move beyond his self imposed solitude. That reason was Mr. Neal.


	4. Chapter 4

As he was closing up that evening, a full hour later than the normal closing time, Rhett heard the quiet sounds of someone crying nearby. He followed the sound around the corner, where a bus station, complete with wooden bench, stood by the street. A lone figure sat on the bench, hunched over and shaking with sobs. It was Mr. Neal.

With pronounced steps, so as to not startle the man, Rhett approached with caution. The brunet looked up, his eyes red and his face soaked with tears. When he recognized the man approaching him, he turned his face away, trying to hide.

“Are you alright, Mr. Neal?” Rhett asked, gently placing a hand on the other man’s shoulder. Mr. Neal sniffled and shook his head, still not looking at him.

“I’m fine,” he said, quietly. The shopkeeper stood there for a moment, contemplating, then slowly sat down in the bench. He didn’t say anything, but Mr. Neal finally turned and looked at him for a moment, and in his face Rhett could tell he was grateful for the company.

“It’s nothing,” he whispered, turning to look at the street.

“Clearly not.” Rhett put his arm on the back of the bench. He wanted to put his arm around this man, but he didn’t know how he’d react.

“It’s stupid… _I’m_ stupid…”

“No.” Rhett moved his other arm and placed his palm on Mr. Neal’s wrist, leaning forward, trying to get him to look back. “Don’t say that.” The dark-haired man moved his face slightly towards him, and at this distance, Rhett saw something he hadn’t noticed before he had sat down. Mr. Neal was wearing makeup. A small patch of what was supposed to be skin-colored makeup was blotched around his left eye. Rhett leaned closer. Tears had started washing away the beige substance revealing a developing bruise underneath.

Instinctively, he gently grabbed the brunet’s face, turning it towards him. The man didn’t struggle, but obediently turned his head and looked right into the shopkeeper’s eyes. Someone had hurt him, and he just didn’t have the strength to fight anymore.

“What happened?” Rhett asked, the quiet rage slowly building back up inside him. How dare anyone hurt this beautiful creature? This angel? His angel…

“I deserved it, I… I shouldn’t have talked back…”

“Don’t say that.” He looked fierce, his hand still grasping Mr. Neal’s face. “Who did this? Mr, Stevens? Tell me.” After a moment, his eyes saying more than his mouth would ever dare to, Mr. Neal pulled away.

“Mr. McLaughlin…” he started.

“Rhett,” the shopkeeper corrected. Mr. Neal looked up at him again, his eyes wistful and apologetic.

“Mr. McLaughlin,”’ he repeated. “I-” Just then, a bus pulled up alongside the bus stop. It’s brakes hissed loudly, and the door creaked as it slid open. Biting his lip, the waiter got off the bench and started walking towards the vehicle. Rhett stood up, but otherwise felt frozen in place. He watched as the other man paused and turned to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Neal whispered, then stepped through the folding doors, which slammed behind him. The shopkeeper watched as the bus pulled away, feeling as though it was taking his heart with it.

~~~

When Rhett sat in his bed that night, holding his guitar close to his chest, he thought about Mr. Neal and his black eye. He seemed like such gentle soul it astounded the shopkeeper that anyone would want to hurt him in anyway. His rage at the injustice of the injury had faded, replaced by a deep sorrow. His heart ached. He wanted so much to know where that kind man was, if he had someone to look after him. He wanted to be the one to look after him.

He thought for a long time before bringing his fingers to the strings of his guitar. Unlike the many times he had played, alone on his bed, he didn’t play any of the songs he knew. Instead, a strange melancholy melody began to flow effortlessly from his hands to the instrument. As he strummed, a song formed in his head and he began to sing, softly.

It felt like the song was pouring right from his heart. He had never felt this way about anyone before and, after all the years of being alone, the wall that he had built up to keep people out came crashing down in an instant. The sudden flood of emotions was too much. As he continued to sing, tears began streaming down his face.

He sang until his throat was raw from singing. He played until his fingers began to cramp up. Then he lay on his bed, crying quietly, until he finally fell asleep. For the first time in forever, he really let himself feel.

~~~

The next morning Rhett didn’t open his store at all. He stood outside, on the unswept step of the building, waiting for any sign that Mr. Neal would appear. The minutes slowly crept by, second by second, and when the scheduled moment arrived, the waiter did not. Still Rhett waited. A few customers came up to him, but he told them the store was closed for the day. No one questioned him, but it was obvious he was upset about something.

When the clock struck nine, Rhett left the step and headed down the street to Connie’s Inn. If Mr. Neal wanted to avoid him on his way to work, that’s fine, but he couldn’t avoid him _at_ work. Taking strides long for even his legs, the shopkeeper practically stormed through the restaurant to where the bouncer stood waiting. He barely slowed down and almost offhandedly spoke the password as he moved towards the entrance to the stairwell. He was startled when the bouncer placed a large hand on his chest, halting his progress. Rhett looked down at the hand, then at the owner of that hand, confused.

“I’m sorry sir,” the large man said, in a deep voice. “I’m going to have to ask you to step back.” He pressed lightly, but firmly, on Rhett’s chest, pushing him a few steps back. Rhett didn’t leave.

“I don’t understand. Did the password change?” He stifled the urge to simply barge passed him; this man was shorter than him (as most men were) but looked like he could easily hurt him if he'd wanted to, and Rhett didn’t want to give him a reason to try.

“Boss says no entry,” the bouncer explained.

“What do you mean, no entry?” Rhett’s voice was getting a bit louder now, drawing attention from some of the restaurant’s nearer patrons.

“No entry means no entry.” The bouncer took a short step forward and Rhett, instinctively, took one backwards. He didn’t want to fight. He had never fought anyone before, never even threw a single punch. Defeated, he clenched his jaw and his fists, turned around, and stormed right back out of the building.

’ _Mr. Stevens did this,_ ’ he told himself, as he headed back to his store. ‘ _He can’t do this. He can’t stop me from seeing him._ ’ He absolutely refused to believe it was Mr. Neal that didn’t want to see him.

Rhett ran dozens of scenarios through his head as he paced back and forth in his store. He considered rushing the bouncer, or breaking in through the back entrance, but he didn’t have the physical strength to do either of those things. Every idea he came up with was immediately shoved aside, each with its own reason for not working.

After considering every plan he could think of, he finally had only one other place to turn to. Using the rotary phone at the back of his shop, he made a call to his friend Robert Patel, and asked him to come as soon as possible.

When Robert arrived, he found his friend in a fervor, chewing on his lip and wringing his hands as he stomped from one end of the store to the other and back. Immediately he thought the worst, that someone had died, or was dying and for a few minutes he just tried to get a straight answer out of the seemingly crazed shopkeeper. Eventually he managed to get Rhett to sit down and talk about what happened.

“Calm down and tell me what’s wrong!” Rhett took a deep breath, trying to do just that.

“He won’t let me even _see_ him,” he began.

“Who? Who won’t let you see who?”

“Mr. Stevens! He hit him, I _know_ he did.”

“Hit Mr. Stevens?”

“No, Neal!”

“Who… The waiter?”

“And now I can’t even get in to see if he’s alright.” Rhett jumped to his feet again, seemingly oblivious to anyone being in the room with him. “I have to see him. I just.. I have to…” Robert stood up and grabbed his friend by the arms, trying to get him to focus.

“Alright, we’ll figure it out, but you gotta calm down first. Alright?” He managed to get his friend to meet his eyes and nodded to punctuate his statement. Rhett nodded back, calming measurably as they sat back down near the store windows.

“I’m just.. worried…” he explained, his voice quieter now.

“I know, I hear you, but you have to tell me what happened before I can help you. Start at the beginning.” The shopkeeper took a breath then started telling his friend about Mr. Neal visiting his store, when Mr. Stevens came by and yelled at him. Then he talked about how he visited the waiter at the speakeasy, which he acknowledged may not have been the right move. When he got to the part in the story where he saw the bruise on Mr. Neal’s face, his hands balled into fists, remember his rage.

“That bastard Stevens did that to him. He had no right. He can’t do that to him, and he can’t keep me from him.”

“You’re a regular Romeo and Juliet, aren’t ya?” Robert joked. Rhett shot him a glare and he put his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Look, just, tell me what you want me to do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you can get into the speakeasy and tell Mr. Neal I want to see him. You can have him meet me somewhere. I just need to talk to him.”

“I think I can do that. What if he says no?” Rhett looked confused at first, then sad. If Mr. Neal didn’t want to see him then… He didn’t want to think about what then. With an understanding smile, Robert patted his friend on the back. “I’m sure everything will be alright. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

They decided to wait until that evening, not long before Mr. Neal went off work so they could meet up after his shift. Rhett paced back and forth in the alley, just a few blocks from Connie’s Inn, desperately trying to keep his heart rate under control. He had no idea what he was going to say, or what he _could_ say. Expressing his feelings with words was never something he was good at. He wasn’t sure if he could even explain them to himself.

“Be calm,” he reminded himself, but it while it was good advice, it was much harder to follow than to say. He felt like his stomach was filled with butterflies and his heart was trying to pound its way out of his chest. As the minutes ticked by, at an agonizingly slow pace, he wasn’t sure if he was going to pass out or explode.

After what seemed like an eternity, he heard footsteps coming down the alley. He turned, excited, but was quickly dismayed when he saw Robert, not Mr. Neal, heading towards him. Rhett rushed over to meet his friend, desperate to hear what news he had brought. Hoping it was that the waiter was not far behind.

“Well? What did he say? Did you talk to him? Did Mr. Stevens catch you? What happened?” Robert raised a hand to stop his friend’s rush of questions, and his face did not fill his friend with confidence.

“I talked to him. No, Mr. Stevens didn’t see us, I don’t think…”

“You don’t think? You mean you don’t know? What happened? Where’s Mr. Neal?”

“Rhett, I’m sorry. He said no.” The word was like a splash of ice water on the shopkeeper’s face. His face fell as he took an almost stumbling step back.

“No…”

“I’m sorry, buddy. He said you’re very nice, but he’s not interested.” Rhett looked at his friend as if he has just ripped his heart out.

“But…” Robert placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

“Maybe we should let this one go, yea?” As if in a daze, Rhett took a few steps away from his friend, down the alley, pausing only once he reached the large dumpster nearby. For a moment he didn’t say anything, just stared at his feet. Then, with an angry roar, he reared his leg back and kicked the metal container with his foot, sending a defending 'bang’ echoing through the back street.

Robert didn’t move. He understood his friend’s pain, if not the entirety of the situation. He could empathize with Rhett’s frustration and wished he could do something, anything to help, but he was just as much at a lost to find a solution. The shopkeeper didn’t kick the dumpster again. It didn’t seem to take much to reset him from anger back to sadness. Trying to hold back tears, he turned and headed out of the alley. Robert followed close behind. He didn’t need to say anything; he had done enough. There wasn’t anything else to do.

Back at the store, he asked if he should stay, but Rhett shook his head. He needed to be alone now, with his thoughts. Robert hesitated to leave, but eventually let his friend be. He knew that sometimes a man just needs to be by himself.

Rhett slumped on the edge of his bed, completely unsure of what to do with himself. He had done what he had never done before. He opened his heart, took a wild chance, a shot in the dark, and it had all been for nothing. Now all that was left was the empty hole in his chest, and pain where his heart used to be.

’ _Why did I believe? Why did I try?_ ’ He laid down on the bed, not bothering to even remove his shoes, as he practically questioned his own existence. If this was what it was to take a chance on love, he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t do it, not again. Never again. He resolved to shut his feelings back up, store the away where no one would ever find them. It wasn’t worth the pain of sharing.

Yet as he drifted off to sleep that night, he dreamed of Mr. Neal. That beautiful face, that charming smile. The way his eyes lit up a room. Even if Rhett put his heart in a safe, deep inside, and never brought them out ever again, it wasn’t alone. Some part of him would always be in that vault. Memories of that raven-haired man, and the emotions he had evoked. No matter what, that small blossom of love would always be there.

It would always be ready.


	5. Chapter 5

Days passed. Weeks passed. Mr. Neal didn’t walk by Rhett’s little shop, not on his way to or from work, not just to say hello or to explain why he never showed up that night. Every morning when the shopkeeper swept the step, he would pause. Before going back inside he’d look down the street, where Mr. Neal used to come into view, and sigh. He missed their morning routine.

Every evening he would sit on that same step, his head in his hands, wondering why he couldn’t let go. He tried so hard, building up the wall inside him, to forget he had even met that handsome stranger, but he just couldn’t. He didn’t cry. He used up his tears a long time ago. At night he would lie in bed, looking at his guitar in the corner, gathering dust. He didn’t have a desire to play it anymore.

Over a month had past since Rhett had seen the object of his obsession. He had grown used to his absence and fell into a cycle of working and sleeping that left him numb to the world outside his building. Robert would visit sometimes, but Rhett dismissed his suggestions that they go out on the town. Those visits grew rarer and rarer. Time passed and he barely noticed until the air turned colder, chilling him to the bone when ever he stepped out to clean. Fall was coming up fast, and winter right behind it.

Before it got too cold, Rhett found himself heading across town to the local pawn shop. He didn’t have a car; he couldn’t afford it. He wanted to get this done ahead of the snow when it would be unbearable to go out. He hadn’t checked the paper that day, or that week for that matter, and didn’t know it was expected to rain, or maybe he wouldn’t have gone until later.

As he headed down the streets, a guitar case in his hand, the first rain drops began to fall. He ignored them, at first. A little rain never hurt anyone. The pawn shop was still many blocks away, so he quickened his pace. About half way there, the droplets had turned to buckets, and the occasional thunderclap echoed overhead. With no sign of stopping the storm kept getting worse. Finally Rhett admitted defeat, and ducked into a coffee shop to wait downpour out.

The waitress behind the counter looked surprised to see him (or anyone, really) out in such weather. The rest of the cafe was empty; it seemed everyone else had the sense to stay in today. Rhett felt like a drowned rat as he slid into an empty booth. His normally, perfectly sculpted hair was a complete mess, with long strands drooping over his forehead and his clothes were soaked through. Even when the storm did pass, he wasn’t sure he would want to go to the pawn shop, not without a change of clothes.

As he waited, the waitress came over and asked if he would like something to drink. He glanced out the window before ordering a simple black coffee. He figured he was going to have to be here for awhile, he might as well be comfortable. Well, as comfortable as a man in wet clothing could be. He slowly sipped the hot beverage, watching the occasional pedestrian scurry on down the street. He chucked every now and then at those who were vainly trying to stop the rain with various objects, like briefcase and newspapers. He was glad he didn’t have anywhere urgent to go.

He wasn’t looking at the cafe entrance when the door opened, but he heard someone else enter as he was finishing his drink.

’ _Another poor soul in search of refuge,_ ’ he surmised. Turning to look, he felt his heart stop as he realized who it was. ’ _Of course, it just had to be._ ’ Mr. Neal, looking quite flustered, giving his brown coat a shake as he closed the cafe door behind him. He, too, looked like he was thoroughly drenched. Unlike Rhett, his coat had managed to take the brunt of it, and his clothes underneath were mostly dry. He froze when he turned and saw the shopkeeper across the room.

For a moment he looked conflicted. His expression was one of recondition, not delight. He looked back outside, as if contemplating returning to the deluge, as if that might be a better alternative than being here. A sharp flash of light, followed by a deafening roll of thunder, told him it was best he stay inside. With a disheartened sigh he removed his hat and ask the waitress to get him a coffee.

“Cream, two sugars please,“ he instructed. Rhett tried not to look at Mr. Neal, as the he gazed about the room waiting for his coffee, but the shopkeeper could feel those blue eyes burning a hole through the back of his head. For awhile the waitress making the coffee was the only source of sound inside the cafe. The storm still raged outside, but Rhett barely heard it now. He stared at his empty mug, hoping the rain would stop soon.

“Thank you,” Mr. Neal murmured, taking his finished coffee. He strolled over to an empty table, facing away from Rhett, sat down, and began to drink quietly. There was a long while where the two men pretended to be unaware of their other’s presence. They each sat in silence and looked anywhere but at each other. The gusting winds and heavy rainfall continued outside, unabated. When Rhett couldn’t take the bleak ambiance anymore, he cleared his throat. The other man seemed to flinch at the sound.

“How are you?” Rhett began, amazed by how little of his apprehension came through his words. Mr. Neal turned his head slightly, but kept his back facing him.

“I’m good, I guess. Just waiting for the rain to stop.” Rhett nodded, mostly to himself. He had made the first move, but Mr. Neal wasn’t giving an inch. He wanted to blurt out so much, to ask him where he had been, if he still worked for that awful Mr. Stevens… If he really felt nothing for the lonely shopkeeper. Instead, Rhett approached the conversation with tentative steps.

“You still work at the, uh, at Connie’s?” He glanced around for the waitress but she had disappeared into the back room. Mr. Neal sighed and tilted his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose before turning in his chair to look behind him.

“You need to stop this, Mr. McLaughlin.” His voice was certain, but his face was a mix of emotions. “I thought I made myself clear before…”

“It was just a question. Why do you have to make things so difficult?” Rhett took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He hasn’t meant to start a fight, but this man drove him crazy and in more ways than one. Mr. Neal didn’t respond. “I don’t understand you. One minute you’re all sweet and the next you talk like you want to bite my head off.”

“I can’t do this…” Mr. Neal’s voice had gone soft, but Rhett didn’t notice. He was on his feet now. He crossed the room to the brunet’s table in a few long strides.

“I just wanted a few answers. I want to know what happened, why Mr. Stevens hit you. Why you still work for that asshole.” He paused, surprised by his own language and glanced around instinctively to make sure the young waitress had not returned. I’m his moment of silence, the shorter man stood up, trying to look braver than he obviously felt.

“Why do you care? Why do you insist on knowing something that has nothing to do with you?” Rhett looked down at him, his face showing the tender hurt inside. Wasn’t the reason obvious?

“I worry about you.” He talked calmly now, his powerful voice almost whispering. “I worry that you’re in pain, that you don’t have someone to care for you.” Mr. Neal’s expression softened. “You deserve someone who cares about you, who holds you when you’re scared. Who helps you when you fall. Who loves you, even when you don’t. If you have someone like that tell me. Tell me and I’ll never bother you again.”

The waiter didn’t answer. His sapphire eyes looked down at the floor and his shoulders slumped slightly. Rhett brought a hand to his chin, lifting his head until he could look into that gorgeous face.

“I used to live for seeing you every morning," he continued. "Your smile brought sunshine to the cloudiest of days. I felt hope just looking into your eyes, and it hurts me when I see you hurt. It hurts even more that you won’t let me help you.” He ran a thumb along the man’s chin, the tip just barely brushing his lower lip. “You’re tearing me apart and I don’t even know your name.”

“Link.” A single tear fell down the Link's face as he spoke. Rhett let go of his jaw to wipe the tear away.

“You are beautiful, Link. I want you to know that. I want you to hear it everyday. Even if it’s not from me.” For a moment, they just looked into one another’s eyes. They didn’t noticed the storm had calmed down outside. Mr. Neal swallowed, licking his dry lips before finally taking a step back.

“Not everyone gets a happy ending, Mr. McLaughlin.” He turned, picking up his hat that he had left on the table next to him. “Sometimes we’re destined to be alone.” As he moved to walk away, like he always did, Rhett grabbed his arm gently.

“Don’t let him treat you that way. Don’t let _anyone_ treat you that way.” Mr. Neal looked up at him, now angry and his ferocious expression startled the shopkeeper.

“Even you?” he scowled. Rhett let his arm drop, taken aback by the accusation. He was only trying to help. He searched that face, the face of an angel, for any sign of understanding, but his steely gaze didn’t relent.

“I didn’t mean to…”

“You know everyone’s so ready to tell me how to live my life, they forget to examine their own lives first.” He looked out the window as he shifted away. Putting on his black fedora, he headed towards the exit before turning back, one last time. “You don’t know me, Mr. McLaughlin. You think you do, but you don’t.” His icy glare melted, slightly, as he added “You don’t want to know me.” Then he opened the door and retreated into the fading rain.

Rhett watched him head away, somewhat dumbfounded. Once again he tried to understand his stupid need to talk with that man, to explain himself, but no matter how hard he tried he keep coming back to the same place. Mr. Neal didn’t want his help, but it didn’t seem to matter.

“Link…” He whispered the name to himself, hearing the sound of it once again in his ears, tasting it on his lips. It was sweet, like honey. He knew it was a word he could never grow tired of tasting, yet it almost felt like it was forbidden for him to say it; a secret he shouldn’t even know. He wanted to know more.

As he headed out of the cafe, despite his previous plans to sell his guitar at the local pawn shop, the tall man walked back to his own store, not stopping until he had walked up the stairs to his apartment and sat on the bed. He set the damp case on the blankets next to him, opened it up and examined the instrument. It looked alright; the heavy downpour hadn’t managed to make its way inside and the beige wood was untouched.

He tested the strings. It was slightly out of tune, but he quickly fixed that. Strumming the strings lightly with his fingertips, he remembered back to that song he had come up with, what seemed like ages ago. After thinking for a moment, he set the guitar aside and went about searching his small home for a pencil and paper. Once he found some, he set them in the nightstand next to him and started to write.

He was amazed at how easily the tune and lyrics came back to him. He spent the next few hours adjusting, tweaking the notes and words until he was satisfied. Then he lay the finished song on the bed and began to play. It was hauntingly beautiful, much like the man he had written it for, and he hoped someday that man would hear it. That someday, he could play it for him.

Link was crying when he got back to work, but it was easily masked by the light drizzle of rain drops that had gathered on his face. He didn’t wipe the rain, or the tears, as he made his way to the small break room in the back. It was empty and for that he was grateful. He needed some time to compose himself before resuming his duties.

His mind ran the events of the coffee shop over and over again, playing them back like a broken record. He couldn’t understand why Mr. McLaughlin got under his skin so badly. Somehow he both loved and hated him, and that just confused him.

The shopkeeper's words, so tender, so kind. No one had ever said such sweet things, but the beauty of his prose just made him sad, not happy. It was tasting of a wine that he could never drink. Nibbling at food he could never eat. Feeling a love he could never have.

If he had been anyone else, it might have been simpler. He could fall into Mr. McLaughlin’s arms, they would kiss, and everything would be alright. But Link was not anyone else. He was himself, and his life was anything but simple.

Ever since he started working for Mr. Stevens, the young man’s life had begun to spiral. Instead of a saving grace, the job had marked his downfall. It had started so small: a light tap on his arm, a soft caress on his back. He didn’t think anything of it and, looking back, he didn’t understand how he had missed it.

Then, as time passed, Mr. Stevens would give him strange looks in passing. Like he was always thinking, always trying to solve a complicated puzzle in his head. Link never paid much attention. Even in those early days he knew better than to slack off. He worked hard every day, trying to earn back the money he owed. He didn’t like owing anyone.

One evening, after work, Mr. Stevens asked him to visit his office, and Link obliged. It was the first time he had been in the large man’s office since he started working for him, and he hoped he wasn’t in any trouble. Looking back, maybe it would have been better if he had been.

Nights when Mr. Stevens asked him to his office were far and few between, but became more common as the years passed. Sometimes he refused, unwilling to bring himself to kneel before his employer to give him the sick pleasure he too often requested. Those times he didn’t have to, but went home with a black eye for his trouble, or worse.

When Link found himself interested in other men, he would try to form a relationship or, at the very least, go out with them, but Mr. Stevens always found out. Always punished him. He didn’t want his star waiter to be with anyone else. He saw the young brunet as his property, and no one was going to take his prize. No one was going to share his toy.

The night Mr. McLaughlin visited him at Connie’s, he had told Mr. Stevens it was nothing, but his boss didn’t believe him. He could see it in the waiter’s eyes; there was attraction there. That night, he told him that he was forbidden to associate with the shopkeeper, and gave him a nice shiner to emphasize his point. Link belonged to him, and no one else. He would always belong to him.

Link did as he was told. He cut off all ties with the tall, blond man, changing his route to and from work, making sure the man wasn’t allowed at the club anymore. He tried so hard to move on and for awhile, it appeared that he could do just that, but fate had a wicked sense of humor.

Seeing him at the cafe, feeling his hands on his face, it had almost been too much. Every moment he was so closed to that man, his kind eyes looking down at him… Link felt like he was going to fracture. He felt like he was made of glass and the next slight breeze was going to cause him to fall over and shatter. Why did he have to feel? Why couldn’t he just turn to stone? Life would be so much easier if he wasn’t capable of emotion.

“Neal!” The sharp voice of Mr. Stevens brought Link back to the present. He finished changing his clothes into his spare, dry set, and checked the mirror. His eyes showed no signs of crying but his hair was still ruffled from wearing a hat. He desperately tried to make the dark strands settle neatly.

“Coming!” he called back, satisfied enough that his appearance was acceptable. He took a deep breath and left the small room. Mr. Stevens was outside. He looked his waiter up and down then grunted as if to say ‘good enough’.

“Right. Table six.” He nodded his head towards the main room. “And make it snappy!” Link nodded and didn’t hesitate to obey. As long as he followed orders, everything would be fine. He threw on a fake smile and got right to work. This was his life and he acknowledged that. There was no time to look to the future, no reason to dwell on the past. Here he was and here he would be for a very long time. Deep down he feared he would always be here but if he ever stopped to think about that, he knew that he would surely break.


	6. Chapter 6

It was only a week or two later when Rhett next heard any news about Link Neal, and the news was as unexpected as seeing him that night at the speakeasy for the first time. His friend. Rober. Patel, had been aware of the shopkeeper's emotional funk for sometime and had tried many times to cheer him up, to no avail. He tried speaking to the Mr, Stevens, tried to talk him into letting Rhett come back, but that was a lost cause. For whatever reason, the speakeasy owner hated the lonely shopkeeper.

Robert tried setting Rhett up with other men, but he wasn’t interested. He didn’t want a one-night stand, he wanted to talk to Mr. Neal. He needed to know he was okay. Finally, Robert came through for him. While he was out on the town, seeing the sights and mingling with the crowd, he came across another place that served alcohol. The place was a bit more of a dive than Connie’s Inn, but it did have one more thing in common with it: Mr. Neal worked there.

“It’s not as classy,” he was telling Rhett. “I wouldn’t say it’s agenda is entirely moral. I just stopped in to see what the buzz was about and I saw him. Neal.”

“You’re certain?”

“Positive. You want me to talk to him for you?” Rhett bit his lip. That hadn’t worked in the past. In fact, nothing seemed to.

“I don’t think I should do anything," Rhett lamented. "He doesn’t want to have anything to do with me and I can’t just go in there and see him, even if it’s just to talk.” Robert thought about this for moment, then he smiled as if a light bulb had gone off in his head.

“You know, they do have musicians in there sometimes, just like Connie’s. You still got your guitar, don’t ya?”

“I do…”

“I can talk to the stage manager. Get you in as a side act. I don’t even have to give them your real name if you don’t want me to. It’s perfect!”

“Now who’s the romantic?”

“What can I say? Just call me Cupid.” Rhett shook his head as his buddy struck a pose, holding an imaginary bow and arrow, but he couldn’t help but think about the idea. It would give him a chance to play the song he had written, and Mr. Neal didn’t have to talk to him if he didn’t want to. Rhett could sing and let the music speak for him. Robert was right: it was perfect.

It took a couple days for Robert to figure out a night when he was sure Mr. Neal would be working and there was a time slot when Rhett could play. They ended up scheduling for a Saturday evening. As the night approached, the shopkeeper grew more and more nervous, but also excited. He hadn’t seen the beautiful brunet in such a long time and was eager to lay eyes on him again, if only from a distance.

The place in question was called the 300 Club. It was a few miles away from Connie’s, but Rhett didn’t mind the walk. It seemed like he was there in no time, his guitar case in hand, Robert by his side, and a light in his heart. Unlike the secret speakeasy in the basement of the upscale restaurant, the 300 Club practically served alcohol right in the open.

The place was packed, wall to wall, with patrons and entertainers. Dozens of sexy fan dancers paraded throughout the establishment, rubbing up against men who whistled and catcalled at them. Rhett ignored them all, making his way back stage where he could wait. A short, elderly gentleman greeted him.

“Name?”

“James Woodrow,” Rhett answered. It was the stage name Robert had picked out for him. The old man checked his list, glancing at the guitar case before nodding.

“Alright. We got two other bands ahead of you. I’ll let you know when you’re next.” Rhett nodded back and moved to lean against a nearby wall. He set down his guitar, rubbing his hands together, trying to rub the nerves out of them. He had practiced the song many times since he wrote it and knew the whole thing by heart. He wondered where in the place Mr. Neal was. Hopefully he would be able to hear the song over the craze of the crowd.

Time ticked by. He listened to the band playing on the small, stage, trying to ignore the sound of his heart pounding in his chest. When that band was done, a second took its place. Every time the musicians finished a song, Rhett held his breath, hoping it would be their last, but then they would start again and he would have to wait longer.

Eventually, the last song was played, and the band walked off the stage, walking past Rhett as they headed away. The shopkeeper waited for the elderly man to return and tell him it was his turn, but it felt like ages until he finally appeared.

“Alright Woody,” he began, sardonically. “You’re up. How many songs you gonna play?”

“Uh, I uh… I just have one.” The old man looked at him quizzically, but didn’t press further. It was no skin off his back.

“Alright. Frank’s gonna announce ya, then you go on. Don’t mess up.” With that he headed off. Rhett opened his case and removed his guitar before walking over to the base of the stage, standing just out of sight of the front row. It looked very busy, but it had quieted down some; the patrons were too inebriated to make too much of a racket now. He barely listened as the announcer, Frank, introduced him. He almost didn’t hear when the man called his stage name. At the last second, he realized this was his moment, and he stepped onto the stage and into the light.

For a moment he was blinded by the bright spotlight. He shielded his eyes, trying to see if Mr. Neal was there, but it was pointless. Even as his eyes adjusted to the bright light, he could barely make out the first few rows. He would just have to hope the waiter he cared for could hear him.

“Evening,” he spoke into the waiting microphone. “I’m R- uh, James Woodrow.” He stumbled slightly, forgetting he was using a fake name, but he continued anyway. “I uh, I wrote this song for a friend.” No one moved, but stared blankly at him. He swallowed then took a deep breath as he placed his fingers on the strings, ready to play the first cord. Closing his eyes, to shut out the world, he pictured Mr. Neal standing in front of him. In his mind, they were the only two people there. The only two people in the entire world. When he had the image firmly in his mind, he began to play.

[Listen to the actual song here](https://youtu.be/cP2G5q4_Prc)

“I can see every tear you’ve cried

like an ocean in your eyes.

All the pain and the scars have left you cold.

I can see all the fears you face

through a storm that never goes away.

Don’t believe all the lies that you’ve been told.

I’ll be right here, now,

to hold you when the sky falls down.

I will always

be the one who took your place.

When the rain falls,

I won’t let go.

I’ll be right here.

I will show you the way back home;

never leave you all alone.

I will stay until the morning comes.

I’ll show you how to live again

and heal the brokenness within.

Let me love you when you come undone.

I’ll be right here, now,

to hold you when the sky falls down.

I will always

be the one who took your place.

When the rain falls,

I won’t let go.

I’ll be right here.

When daybreak seems so far away,

reach for my hand.

When hope and peace begin to fray,

still I will stand

right here, now,

to hold you when the sky falls down.

I will always

be the one who took your place.

When the rain falls,

I won’t let go.

When the rain falls,

I won’t let go.

I’ll be right here.”

As the last note faded from his guitar, he opened his eyes, taking in the sight of the people in front of him once more. They clapped unenthusiastically, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t playing for them.

He gave a short bow before stepping off the stage, clasping his guitar close to his chest. He hoped Mr. Neal had seen him play, heard him sing. The song was straight from his heart and only for him. He dropped his guitar in its case then leaned against the far wall; suddenly he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

He bent over in the room behind the stage, his hands on his knees, trying not to faint, when he heard the door open in front of him. He didn’t look up, at first, but he heard that voice that always made his heart flutter.

“Are you alright, Mr, Woodrow?” Rhett lifted his head and saw the man he adored, wearing black pants with a leather belt, a white tank top and suspenders. He took a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, not pulling his gaze away from the taller man and removed a single cigarette, placing it between his smirking lips.

Rhett felt out of breathe and didn’t speak as Mr. Neal lit the cigarette and took a single puff. He smiled, his blue eyes twinkling in the soft light of the small room and all thought was removed from the shopkeeper’s brain.

  
“I liked your song,” Mr. Neal finally said. “Did you really write that for a friend?“

“I wrote it for you,” Rhett managed to say, straightening up. “I was worried you couldn’t hear it over the crowd… Or that you weren’t here at all.”

“I heard it.” He glanced around, his coy expression faltering into one of genuine nervousness, before taking a step closer. “I meant what I said before, when I said you think you know me but you don’t…”

“I know. I know I don’t…”

“No one’s ever written me a song before. If you want to get to know me, I’m open to teaching you.” Rhett couldn’t hide a smile and Mr. Neal smiled back, a shy, lopsided grin that made the shopkeeper’s whole body tingle at the sight. He took an adventurous step towards him, not really sure what he was going to do when they got closer. He couldn’t think. All he could do was look into those vibrant blue eyes and his mind went blank.

“Neal!” a terrible voice shouted from the hall. The two men turned to see the infamous Mr, Stevens enter the room and Rhett’s heart sank. Why was he here? “Why aren’t you working?” His terrible gaze turned on Rhett and his face went red. “You. I thought I made it clear at Connie’s. I don’t want you bugging my staff and I don’t want you in my establishments.”

“Y-your establishments?” So, he owned both places. How conveniently inconvenient. Not answering, the muscular man took an aggressive step towards his employee, who instinctively braced himself.

“And _you_ , you lazy bastard. If you ever want to be out of debt you better get off your ass and get back to work!” When Mr. Neal hesitated, Mr. Stevens grabbed him by the suspenders causing the waiter to drop his cigarette. “Don’t make me ask again.”

“Let go of him,” Rhett snapped. He gave Mr. Stevens a shove in his shoulder and he let go of the waiter, startled that anyone would dare do such a thing. Mr. Neal backed away, trying to look as small as possible.

“Don’t,” he begged, but the shopkeeper shook his head, not turning his gaze from Mr. Stevens.

“No. He can’t talk to you that way.” The boss brought himself to his full six foot three inch height and glared at Rhett.

“I will talk to him however I please,” he said, his tone dangerous, taunting. “I _own_ him.” Rhett didn’t back down, but glared right back, infuriated.

“No one owns him. He’s not your property. You will treat him with the respect he deserves.”

“This little shit works for me, and if he doesn’t want to go back to living in the gutter-”

“Don’t call him that,” the taller man interrupted. He couldn’t stand Mr. Neal being talked down to, like he was nothing. He also couldn’t stand this man using such filthy language when referring to him. Mr. Stevens grinned an evil grin.

“What are you going to do about it? Huh, bean pole?” Rhett didn’t answer and Mr. Stevens’ wicked grin just grew wider. For a moment they just waited for the other to make a move. When the shopkeeper didn’t do anything, Mr. Stevens took a short step back, facing both of them now. “I want you both out. Now. I don’t want you” he pointed at Rhett, “in either of my joints ever again. As for you,” he jabbed his finger towards Mr. Neal. “You ungrateful, pathetic fuck. I’ve got half a mind to…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. He didn’t even see the fist coming as it collided with his jaw, knocking him sideways into the far wall. His head made a sickening ‘thud’ against the stone brick, then he slumped to the floor and didn’t get back up. Mr. Neal stared at Rhett in awe, the atll man’s fist still clenched in anger, his face contorted in disgust.

“Oh my god.” Mr. Neal’s voice wavered; he was in shocked over what had just happened, what he had just seen. He looked up at Rhett, scared, sad, uncertain. Before the shopkeeper could say anything, they heard someone coming down the hall. Mr. Neal grabbed Rhett’s arm, pulling him towards the back door. “You have to get out of here.”

“But…”

“Please!” Rhett was powerless against the man’s pleading and let him escort him out of the building into the alley. It wasn’t the same one behind Connie’s Inn, but being there, with him, brought back memories of that distant night.

“I’m sorry,” he started, once they were outside and the door was closed behind them. “I couldn’t take it anymore. I just… couldn’t.” Mr. Neal sighed and a small smile crept across his lips.

“He’s had it coming for awhile, but you still shouldn’t have hit him. He has a lot of friends in high places. He could make life a living hell for you.”

“He’s got no right...”

“Maybe not, but he’s got the power, and there’s nothing you can do.”

“Why are you so under his thumb?” Mr. Neal shook his head. “He mentioned a debt. What was he talking about?”

“I… borrowed some money from him, awhile back. Had I known what it would really cost me, I would have told him to stick his loan up his big, fat-”

“How much do you owe him?”

“Six hundred.”

“Six hundred dollars?! What the hell? What did you need six hundred dollars for?”

“Rent! Food!” He threw his hands in the air. “I was three months behind, I was gonna get kicked out of my apartment.” He rubbed his face, remembering. “I came to this city… I wanted to be a star. I wanted to sing, but no one cared. I couldn’t get a gig anywhere. Time went on, I kept looking, all the while the rent kept piling up. Mr. Stevens gave me a job, and a loan. If I hadn't taken his offer I’d be living on the streets. I didn’t want to take the chance.”

Rhett could relate. If it hadn’t been for his uncle Roger, he would probably be in the same boat. He took a step towards Mr. Neal, his hands reaching for him, but the brunet waved him off, stepping back towards the door.

“You better go. When he wakes up he’ll probably call the cops on you. He’s got the whole force in his pocket.” Rhett hesitated. “Go!” With one last sad, desperate glance, Mr. Neal ducked back inside and the heavy door slammed behind him. The shopkeeper didn’t pause, but turned on his heel and headed off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thanks to my friend, Kiko, for use of her lovely manip I used in this chapter.  
> [View Original Here](http://friederikevulpius.tumblr.com/post/121972159563/smoking-hot)


	7. Chapter 7

The Next morning Link found himself, once again, in Mr. Stevens office, and the familiar sensation of terror was permeating his body down to his bones. He fully expected the large man to start shouting right away, but he was just pacing back and forth in front of the waiter, fuming, holding a bag of ice against his head.

Link stood at attention, waiting for a fist, or a palm, to fly at his face, but it never came. He waited for this boss to start yelling at the top of his lungs, but it never happened. When his employer finally stopped pacing, he set down the ice on his desk and turned to face him, his voice was soft, but no less terrifying.

“I put my neck out for you,” he began. Link could practically feel the ice emanating from the large man’s tone. He almost wished his boss would throw a punch and be done with it. His calm demeanor was more chilling than his deafening rage. “You know... I gave you a job, money for rent, and how do you repay me?”

Mr. Neal knew better than to actually answer this question. He felt his body tremble with fear and did his best not to crumple to the floor. Mr. Stevens stepped closer, leaning close to him, their noses nearly touching.

“I think you’ve forgotten who owns you.”

“I haven’t-” Link started to argue but his words were cut short as a strong hand cut through the air and boxed his left ear. It wouldn’t leave a mark, but it hurt like hell and his frozen stance stumbled slightly and he brought his hand protectively to his head.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Neal.” Mr. Stevens sat back on the edge of his heavy, mahogany desk, his voice still steely calm. “Maybe I need to remind you of what you are.” His fingers moved mindlessly near his belt buckle.

“Please…” Link’s voice was quiet, despairing.

“You think you’re really something, don’t you?”

“No, sir.”

“The sooner you figure out your place in life, the better off you’ll be.” The shorter man cast his eyes to the ground. He couldn’t bring himself to answer but was prepared to just shut up and take it, like he always had before. After a moment of thinking, Mr. Stevens stood back up and Link watched him walk away, confused.

“Maybe it’s not your fault, Neal,” the large man mused, moving around his desk and sitting down in his high-back office chair. “I think I’ve been going about this all wrong.” He picked up the transmitter from the switchhook of the phone on his desk, and checked for a dial tone.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make sure you stay focused. It’s for the best, Neal. We mustn’t let you get distracted.” His thick fingers dialed the first number while the Mr. Neal watched. Then a second. Before he could dial the third, Link realized who was being called.

“You can’t!” he exclaimed, before he could catch himself. Mr. Stevens shot daggers at him, warning him to mind his place, but Mr. Neal couldn’t help it. It was one thing for his boss to treat him like dirt, it was another thing entirely for him to treat Mr. McLaughlin that way.

“Watch me.” 

Rhett was out and about the town, running an errand or two, before returning to his store to open up shop and hour later than usual. When he got back, Mr. Neal was waiting for him. Sitting on the store step, he looked like he hadn’t slept all night, he had dark bags under his eyes and his raven hair was shaggier than usual. He stood up as Rhett approached.

“You need to get out of here," he began. "Mr. Stevens is madder than I’ve ever seen him.” His worried expression turned confused when Rhett didn’t looked concerned in the slightest.

“I can handle Mr. Stevens. I’m still worried about you. I don’t want you working for him anymore.” Mr. Neal sighed.

“I have to. I can’t stop until I paid off my debt.”

“But what if…” Rhett wrung his hands. “What if you _didn’t_ have a debt? If you didn’t owe him any money?”

“Well… Yeah, I guess I would quit, but I can’t. He owns my ass and if you’re not gone by the time he gets here, he’s gonna own yours too. I don’t…” He looked away, but the shopkeeper could see his cheeks flush slightly pink. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Don’t worry," Rhett assured him with a gentle smile. "I’ll handle Mr. Stevens.”

“What… What are you gonna do?” Before Rhett could answer, he saw Mr. Neal’s face fall, his jaw clenched tight. Turning, he saw Mr. Stevens coming up the street, two police officers at his side. They stomped towards the unassuming shop, but the tall man held his ground, unafraid.

“There he is, officers,” the large man grunted, pointing at Rhett. “That’s the guy who hit me.” The two officers moved to flank the shopkeeper, but still he remained calm. He raised his hands, showing them he didn’t want any trouble and when he spoke, it was with his most charming salesman voice.

“Hey now, there’s no need for this I’m sure. I was just coming to see you, Mr. Stevens.” The large man paused, uncertain if this was a trick of some kind. “I have something for you.” Moving slowly, so the officers didn’t shoot him, he put his hand into his coat pocket. One of the policemen put his hand to his holster, ready to fire should Rhett try anything. Ever so carefully, Rhett removed a large envelope from his coat pocket and held it out to Mr. Neal’s employer.

“What’s that?” Mr. Stevens inquired. Rhett didn’t answer but continue to hold out the envelope. Curious, Mr. Stevens took it and looked inside.

“I think that should more than enough cover Mr. Neal’s debt to you,” the shopkeeper explained. “I added a bit extra as my way of apology for last night’s unpleasantness. I’m sorry things got out of hand.” Mr. Stevens and Mr. Neal looked surprised and both were at a loss for words. As the bulky man counted the money, making sure it was all on the level, Rhett reached back into his coat pocket and pulled out a few large bills, handing one to each police officer. “I’m sorry you two had to come all the way down here for nothing.”

“It was no trouble, Mr, McLaughlin,” one said, taking the bill and placing in his pocket. “I’m just glad to see justice served.”

“Yeah,” added the other cop. “Sorry to bother you. You have a nice day, sir.” The two men nodded goodbye before heading off. Mr. Stevens, having lost his back up and with a rather large sum of money in hand, decided it wasn’t worth the effort to deal with the shopkeeper just then.

“Well, I still don’t want to see your face in my bars no more. You hear me?” He pointed a finger at Rhett, who nodded, trying to look more scared than he felt. Satisfied, Mr. Stevens grunted and walked off. Once he was out of sight, the tall man turned to the brunet and sighed.

“See? Taken care of.” Mr. Neal was still astonished. It took him a moment before he could respond.

“You… You paid off my debt?” Rhett nodded. “Where did you get enough money?”

“I’ve been saving up for years to get a house, a _real_ house. I stopped by the bank early this morning to withdraw my savings.”

“That must have been every dollar you had!”

“Damn near,” Rhett admitted. “But it was worth it. Now you don’t have to work for him anymore. You can get a better job, somewhere where they respect you.”

“I don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to help.”

“I’ll never be able to repay you…”

“I don’t want you to. There’s nothing to repay. I just want you to be safe.”

“But, your savings…”

“I saved that much before, I can do it again.” He put a hand on Mr. Neal’s arm, looking deep into his eyes. “Please, just accept this gift. I don’t want anything in return, believe me.”

“I have to thank you…”

“You don’t have to-” Before he could blink or utter another word, Rhett was cut short when he felt a pair of soft lips pressed against his own. He melted into the kiss, more wonderful than he ever dreamed possible, closing his eyes as Mr. Neal pulled him closer. All too soon the waiter stepped away again, but Rhett still had stars in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Mr. Neal whispered.

“I… You.. Uh, welcome. You’re welcome.” He stumbled over his own tongue, still trying to bring himself back to reality. “Always happy to help.” He couldn’t hide the huge grin emerging on his face, and the blush filling his cheeks. Mr. Neal smiled too.

“Well, now that you mention it, I could use one more thing.” The former waiter tilted his head, coyly, and Rhett swallowed unconsciously.

“One more thing?” he asked, nervously.

“I could really use a job.” Rhett laughed out loud, a great hearty laugh.

“I can help with that.”

The two men headed into the small corner shop, Rhett ushering in his new friend with a hand on his lower back. He gave him the short tour of the shop. There’s wasn’t really much to it and he didn’t really feel like going over the whole inventory at the moment.

Link was barely listening as Rhett told him about the various departments, about how the brunet could help him around the place doing all the odd jobs Roger McLaughlin once had him do. As he listened to the taller man’s baritone voice, Mr. Neal became lost in it’s soothing texture. Now that he was rid of Mr, Stevens for good, he felt like a bird released from a cage. He was free. Free to love and be loved. Free to be with who he chose. To be with Mr. McLaughlin.

As the tour came to an end, they stopped just short of the inconspicuous door that led to the short stairs to the second floor. Rhett hadn’t thought very far ahead and was now unsure of how to proceed. Mr. Neal pointed at the door.

“Where does that go?” he asked. Rhett hesitated for a moment before answering.

“My apartment. I have a small place just upstairs. It’s not much, but it’s home.” He glanced nervously at the door, knowing what question his guest was going to ask next.

“Can I see it?” His voice was so sweet, and Rhett couldn’t resist the innocent look in his azure eyes. Nodding, he unlocked the door and led the way upstairs. The shopkeeper was glad he had cleaned recently. Mostly out of habit he removed his jacket and hung it on the hook by the door while his friend looked around.

“Like I said, it’s not much.” Link turned and smiled at him.

“It’s wonderful. It’s much nicer than my place.” Rhett wasn’t sure if he should believe that, but he let it slide. He took his guest’s coat and hung it next to his own then turned and watched as his new friend circled the small room. It wasn’t long before Mr. Neal found the bed and sat down on its long, skinny, frame. Approaching slowly, uncertain how to proceed, Rhett felt his heart racing. One look from Mr. Neal, however, drove all thought from his mind. He sat down next to him, his hands folded together.

“I’m glad you like it.” He never thought he’d have someone, _anyone_ , sitting on his bed, let alone the man he had dreamt of for so long. His mouth felt so dry and all he could do was look over that boyish face, his eyes darting from those gorgeous eyes to those luscious lips.

“Rhett…” 

“Link?” There were no more words. Rhett couldn’t think of anyway to explain what he was feeling, and he didn’t need to. He looked into Link’s eyes and saw his affection, and desire, reflected in dazzling sapphire. This may have been a new dance for Rhett, but for Link, it was just a practiced ballet.

Leaning forward, Link brought a single finger to Rhett’s chin, urging him closer. They brushed lips, ever so lightly, and sending a bolt of electricity through the taller man’s body. Like setting a spark on dry grass, it ignited the fire inside him which, until now, had remained locked up deep in his emotional vault. It was as if Link had found the key to break it open, and let all the emotions free.

As his feelings rushed forth, Rhett couldn’t hold them back. Barely maintaining a semblance of composure, he closed his eyes and pressed firmly against Link’s mouth with his own. He brought his hand to the other man’s face, holding him close as their lips glided together. As his passion grew, he took shorter breaths, pressing forward towards the bed.

Link felt himself lay back on the mattress and he moaned as the other man’s body laid on top of him. He could feel the man’s desire, as well as his own and it was invigorating. It had been too long since he had been with anyone… far too long. For Rhett, this would be his first time. He never thought he’d do this. It was something he had been raised to wait for until his wedding night, but he wasn’t thinking about the morality of his actions. He was lost in the taste of Link on his tongue, his scent permeating his nostrils, and the feelings of their bodies pressed together.

He kissed down Link's neck, sucking softly as he used his hands to slowly bring the man’s white suspenders down off his shoulders. He wanted him. Now he wanted more than just to hold him and comfort him. He wanted to feel his skin against his own, without the barrier of cloth between them. He didn’t care about anything else.

As his rough fingers began to work on the knot of his lover’s tie, they both heard a sudden crash as the window nearby shattered. Bolting upright, they were stunned and confused for a few moments before Rhett got up to investigate. As he searched the floor for clues, Link replaced his suspenders and glanced out of the window, looking down at the street below.

“Look.” Rhett held up a large stone that he had found, the obvious source of the destruction. Link sighed and shook his head.

“Kids?” he suggested.

“That would be a first. I”ll get a broom.” As he went to retrieve the broom, and sweep up the mess, Link looked back out of the window, trying to understand why someone would attack the small shop. He didn’t notice the figure quickly making his way from the corner store, or the furious expression on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

“I hope you have a pleasant day.” Link gave a sweet smile as he bid his farewell to the customer. He had worked at Rhett’s corner shop for a few weeks now, and had gotten quite good at dealing with customers. He always treated them with the utmost courtesy and his amazing smile always induced smiles in his costumers. Rhett was happy his friend was getting on so well.

As the young woman Link had been helping exited the store, Rhett approached him, a broom in his hand.

“Time to close up,” he informed Link. “Can you sweep the step while I lock up the register?” Link took the handle and nodded.

“Sure. Then maybe we can go see that moving picture. Al Jolson actually talks in this one. Can you imagine? That’s gonna be crazy, huh?” Rhett glanced out through the big, glass windows at the front of the store. It was already starting to snow and it didn’t show any sign of letting up.

“I don’t know. I’d hate to walk back home in _that_ tonight. Not to mention to your place.” He didn’t fancy the idea of drudging through the snow. Link’s place was a bit of a hike away even with the bus making it shorter, and neither of them had a very good winter coat.

“I could stay here tonight after the show,” Link suggested as he walked towards the front door, “If you would prefer.” Rhett blushed. Ever since their make out session had been interrupted, Link had made no secret that he desired to try again, but the shopkeeper was too nervous now. He knew he needed only say the word and he’d have his co-worker pressed against him once more, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t want to push things too far too fast; they hadn’t even officially called themselves boyfriends yet.

Before Rhett could reply, Link disappeared outside, getting right to work on the dingy step. Rhett watched him clean the concrete of the slush that had collected over the day, letting his eyes wander up and down Link's slender frame. Instead of his black uniform that he had worn working at the speakeasy, the brunet was in tan pants with a grey shirt and belt. He looked so different than the rundown man the shopkeeper had met so long ago. Not in a bad way, just different. If anything, he looked better. Out of his second hand clothes, the ex-waiter cleaned up nicely. Rhett couldn’t help but note how the grey shirt nicely accentuated the muscles of his companion; how wonderfully fitting his pants were…

Shaking his head, jolting himself from his thoughts before they become too impure, Rhett made his way to the register to collect the money from the day. He wondered what his next move should be. Part of him wanted to fling himself at Link, to take him right there on the showroom sofa, or maybe up against a bare wall, but the other part of his mind told him no. That was unseemly, uncouth, and definitely unbecoming of a gentlemen.

He had never courted anyone. Link had kissed _him_ , had initiated their relationship, whatever it was, and now Rhett didn’t know what the next step was. He was happy, nay, overjoyed that he now that had Link Neal in his life, but he couldn’t figure out what to do now that his feelings were reciprocated. All he could do was hope events would unfold as they were meant to. As they needed to.

After Link cleaned the step and Rhett put the day’s earnings into the store safe, the two men went upstairs to change. Link kept a spare set of clothing for when they went out after work. It didn’t happen often. Neither really had the spare cash to spend on drinks or eating out. Maybe it was about time they went out and enjoyed themselves. They had worked hard this past week and that certainly warranted a night out.

Rhett changed in the bathroom, sticking to old fashioned modesty, while Link used the bedroom. Having finished first, and a bit lost in his own thoughts, the shopkeeper exited the bathroom to find his friend was only half finished.

Standing in the middle of the room, wearing his old black pants and white suspenders slung down, the brunet was examining his black shirt closely. Rhett froze at the sight of Link’s bare back, his eyes glued to the man’s toned muscles as he shifted them, turning the shirt inside out.

“Dang it,” Link muttered to himself. “Not another one.”

“Something wrong?” Rhett asked, attracting his friend’s attention. Link turned around, giving Rhett a wonderful view of his bare chest covered in thick, black hair.

“I got a hole in my shirt. See?” He showed Rhett the shirt. There was a small, almost imperceptible hole under the armpit on one side. “Just there.” Rhett took slow steps towards Link, trying to focus just on the piece of clothing he was offered and not the half naked man standing in his apartment.

“It’s not that bad,” Rhett assured him. “An easy fix.”

“I have a sewing kit back at my place.” Link took the shirt back, taking another look at the small hole in the fabric. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to stitch a shirt.”

“Do you want to cancel our plans?”

“Not a chance.” Link gave a challenging smile. “I’m not missing out on a chance to see a movie with my boyfriend.” He leaned close, giving Rhett a small peck on the check.

“Boyfriend?” Rhett asked, hopeful.

“What would you call us?”

“Boyfriend sounds good.” Rhett let his eyes take a quick glance of the other man’s naked torso. Link’s smile broadened and he took a step back, giving Rhett a better view.

“If you want, we could skip the movie.” The shopkeeper blush furiously and shook his head, embarrassed.

“Heh, I uh, heh…” Seeing his boyfriend fumble over a response, Link gave a short giggle before slipping on his shirt. Rhett sure was cute when he was shy.

“Come on,” he started, buttoning his shirt. “Let’s go, _boyfriend_.” Rhett couldn’t help but giggle back. 

The movie, “The Jazz Singer”, was a little over an hour long. As the two men headed back to the shop, they were in high spirits, with Link holding on to Rhett’s elbow as they walked down the sidewalk. A few people turned to look at the unusual couple, but mostly no one cared. New York was a far cry from Georgia.

They didn’t think about anything but each other as they strolled along, lost in just being together. Neither noticed the guy following behind them, watching them with great interest. It wasn’t until a second man came up in front of them, blocking their path, that they realized something was very wrong.

The two strangers, both looking much tougher than either Rhett or Link, quickly cornered their victims into an adjacent alley where no one could see them. Rhett tried to ask them who they were, or what they wanted but they didn’t answer. They just stood there, arms crossed over their broad chests, and waited.

After a moment, a third stranger appeared, bulkier than the first two. He made his way between them and they parted as if with scripted movements. Rhett and Link recognized him immediately.

“Go keep a look out, would ya?” Mr. Stevens instructed. Without a word, the two brutes turned and left the alley. “Where you two headed on this cold night?” Link tired not to cringe at the sight of his former boss, knowing he held no more real power over the ex-waiter, but it was difficult to break old habits. Rhett took a protective stance in front of his friend, glaring at the man before them.

“We don’t want any trouble,” he began. Mr. Stevens laughed right out loud.

“You’ve already been trouble. Taking my waiter away from me. Taking my property away from me.”

“You don’t own him. You’re debt is paid. Why can’t you leave us alone?”

“When people take things that belong to me, I take them back.”

“Weren’t you listening?” Link shouted. “You don’t own me!” Mr. Stevens looked surprised but not intimidated in the least. In fact, if anything, he looked amused.

“Why can’t you understand your only good for waiting tables and sucking dick, Neal. Come along now, before I have to make you.”

“Just try it,” Rhett interjected. He set his jaw and clenched his fists. He had hit this man before and was more than happy to do it again if he had to.

“You don’t stand a chance," Mr. Stevens taunted. "You caught me off guard last time. It won’t happen again.”

Rhett took a step towards the man, but stopped in his tracks only a second later as Link’s former boss pulled out a small pistol from his jacket pocket. Mr. Stevens hadn’t just come with muscle, he had another plan. He raised the weapon and pointed it directly at the two lovebirds.

“Are you _crazy?_ ” Link exclaimed. Mr. Stevens snarled at him.

“I find the most simple solution is often the best. Mr. McLaughlin here is between you and me. I aim to change that.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Now now, Mr. Neal. Let’s not make a scene. We wouldn’t want your cuddly buddy to get hurt, now would we?” Link glanced at Rhett before taking his first steps towards Mr. Stevens.

“Link, no!” Rhett reached out a hand to grab him, but Link dodged his grasp.

“He’s got a gun, Rhett! He’ll shoot you.”

“I’d rather have him kill me then have him keep hurting you.”

“That can be arranged,” Mr. Stevens noted. Shaking his head, Link took a few more steps towards the armed man. It looked like the bastard was going to get his way after all. Just before Link reached his former boss he leaped, suddenly, and made a mad grab for the weapon.

Mr. Stevens was slow to react, startled by the surprise attack. His hand swung wildly and his trigger finger instinctively pulled taught. All three men flinched as the shot rang out, echoing in the enclosed ally.

A cry of pain fell from Rhett's lips as he fell to his knees. Instantly Link turned to look and saw his love clutching his right arm tightly. There was blood seeping into the sleeve of his coat. Furious, Link turned back to Mr. Stevens and shoved him hard before dashing back to where Rhett was now kneeling.

“Are you alright?” he asked, already guessing the answer. Meanwhile Mr. Stevens, looking quite shocked, decided he didn’t want to be around if and when the cops showed up. Tucking his pistol into his coat pocket, he ran off down the alley, quickly followed by his two goons.

“My arm.” Rhett groaned with pain and Link felt a twinge of guilt for his friend’s injury.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have…”

“It’s fine. As long as you’re alright, it’s fine.” He looked pale, growing even whiter than the snow around him as it began to soak in the red of his blood.

“Hold on. I’ll… I’ll get help. Just… just hold on!” Link ran out into the street, shouting for someone, _anyone_ , to help his friend. Rhett felt light headed but he desperately tried not to pass out. He tried to focus on Link's voice, using it to ground himself, but it was no use. He was losing blood fast. As the world around him grew dark, the last thing he saw was his boyfriend's face above him, shouting something he could not hear. Then there was only blackness.


	9. Chapter 9

Rhett needed stitches, a blood transfusion and was in the hospital for several days, but he was going to be just fine. One good thing that came from the attack was it prompted the police to track down Mr. Stevens. They promised they were close and hopefully they would catch him soon. In the meantime Link had stayed by his boyfriend's bedside every second he could, and now that his friend was going to be discharged soon and he wanted to do something special for his return home.

The shop had been closed while its owner was being treated. Link couldn’t bring himself to work while the man he loved was lying on a hospital bed. He wanted to be with him and could barely think about anything else. Now, as he returned to the corner store, he saw it had collected a fair bit of dust in such a short time. Not wanting Rhett to see the place (that was normally kept in good condition) in such a state, Link threw on an apron and quickly set about cleaning up as best he could.

As he was finishing up, he heard the familiar ringing of the door chime, indicating someone had entered the store. Silently cursing himself for leaving the front door unlocked, Link went to meet the customer and tell them the store would still be closed for the foreseeable future.

The visitor, a fairly average man with light brown hair, was dressed quite smartly in a fancy white suit, matching hat and a red tie. He removed his hat as he glanced around the place, seemingly judging it as a whole and not the wares within. When he saw Link approach, he smiled warmly and cleared his throat.

“Good day, sir,” he began. “I was wondering if you could help me.” Link smiled back, trying not to look as worn out as he felt from all his cleaning.

“A good day to you, sir, but I’m afraid we’re closed. I’m not sure when we’ll open…”

“Oh, uh, I’m not here to buy anything um.. I’m looking for someone. A Mr. Woodrow? James Woodrow? I was told I could find him here.” Link was about to answer that he had never heard of such a person when he stopped short, suddenly remembering he had heard that name before. It was Rhett’s stage name, when he performed at the 300 Club.

“May I ask what’s this is about?” he inquired, cautiously.

“I’ve been looking for him forever, it seems. A colleague of mine heard him play a few weeks back in some place downtown, said he was the best. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m Herman Stark, I own a club, over on Lenox Ave. I’m always on the look out for new talent and if this Woodrow guy is as good as my friend says he is, I’d like to hire him.”

Link new very well his boyfriend’s desire to become a big hit in the city and this would be a fantastic opportunity for him to do just that. It would have been very easy for him to tell this man the truth, how Rhett had used a stage name to perform that night. He was slightly suspicious, after years of dealing with shady people.

“Good pay?”

“Absolutely. I can get him a fifty bucks a night.” Link’s jaw dropped. Making money like that, Rhett could easily earn enough to buy that house he always wanted. He was about to tell this stranger where he could find the man he was looking for, when he continued. “If I can find him by tonight he can start right away. I’d even give him a hundred bucks to play tomorrow evening.”

“I’m Woodrow,” Link blurted out. Immediately he regretted it. ‘ _Why did I say that? Why?_ ’ Rhett needed this job, they both did, but Rhett wouldn’t be ready to play for awhile. He arm still needed to heal. It was an opportunity of a lifetime, and he couldn’t let it slip through their fingers. Still, surely, there was no need to lie. Yet he hadn’t been able to stop himself. The stranger’s smile widened.

“Great! Do you mind if I hear you sing? Just so I can be sure you’re worth the cash?”

“Uh, sure, right, of course…” He hadn’t sung in a while. He didn’t know what to perform.

“How about that number you sang at the club?” Mr. Stark suggested. Made sense. Link nodded but then realized that, unlike Rhett, he had not memorized the song.

“Just a sec. I have to, uh, get the words. I haven’t sung that in awhile.”

“Take all the time you need.” Mr. Stark looked someone dubious that this was, in fact, the man he was looking for, but he was willing to give him a chance. Shaking from nerves, Link threw off his cleaning apron and headed upstairs.

The place was small, and well organized. It didn’t take long for Link to find what he was looking for. Next to Rhett’s guitar was its case. Inside was a piece of crumpled paper where he had written the song for Link. Link didn’t play the guitar, but he knew how to read music. Grabbing the paper he ran back downstairs.

“Alright, I’m ready.” He held up the paper, getting ready to sing. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but he didn’t think he could back out now.

“What about you guitar?” the stranger asked. “I was told you played the guitar as well.”

“Uh, no, my, uh, partner plays the guitar,” he explained. “He plays while I sing.” Mr. Stark nodded. If he saw through the lie, he didn’t say anything. He waited patiently for Link to begin.

After clearing his throat, the young man started to sing. He was a bit shaky, at first, nervous about performing something he had never sung before, but he quickly grew more confident. By the time he finished, he was actually proud of himself. He forgot the deception, and the reasons, and just listened to the song. The acoustics weren’t great, and he had not practiced in some time, but he thought it wasn’t half bad. As he finished, he looked at Mr. Stark, wondering what he thought.

“Did you write that yourself?” Not wanting to compound his earlier lie, Link shook his head.

“No, my partner did.”

“I look forward to meeting this partner of yours.” Mr. Stark chuckled. “Will he be performing with you tomorrow evening?”

“No he… Tomorrow? You mean-”

“I loved it. I would much prefer to have a guitarist play with you, though. If your partner plays as well as you sing, I’ll take you both on.”

“He’s in the hospital.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Woodrow. If you have the sheet music for the piece, I can have one of my boys play for you tomorrow evening. When your friend gets better, he can take his place, but I need you badly. I got a full house and an empty slot. I don’t want my clientele to not have entertainment.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Yes. If you’re interested.”

“Yea, sure! I mean, of course.”

“Great!” Mr. Stark put his hat back on before offering his hand to Link. “Come by around seven and my boys will set you up.” He looked the blue-eyed man up and down as they shook hands. “Wear something, uh, smart. Yeah?”

“Right,” was all Link could think to say. As Mr. Stark headed out, Link let out a deep sigh. ‘ _What have I done?_ ’ 

Later that day, Link went to pick up Rhett. The building, a Presbyterian hospital in Manhattan, was an intimidating structure. Several soaring stories of brick and stone seemed to glare down at him as he approached the massive entryway. He had been here a great deal these past few days, while Rhett was in recovery, yet it seemed a great deal more foreboding than before, as if it could sense his sins and was now judging him for them.

He was let in to see his boyfriend by a young nurse. She knew him well enough that it was a quick process of checking in and soon Link found himself at Rhett’s bedside. He immediately felt better just seeing him. The tall, lanky man looked much better then when he had initially been checked in. He had looked so pale and fragile then.

“Hey, Link!” he eagerly greeted from a seated position on the bed. He gave an amazing smile that lit his face up even more. “You here to take me home, I hope.”

“Actually I told the nurses to keep you here for a few more weeks," Link joked. "Maybe sew some extra parts to you. You’ve always wanted extra arms, right?” Rhett chuckled as Link settled on the bed next to him.

“Sure, why not? More arms to hold you with.” He wrapped his arms around the shorter man and have him a bear hug. After a moment he glanced around to see if the nurse was near enough to hear. Once he was certain she wasn’t, he leaned in and whispered, “seriously though, the food is terrible. Get me out of here.”

“Don’t worry,” Link chuckled. “I got you.” Ten minutes and many pages signed later, Rhett was released into Link’s custody. Except for a sling for his arm, Rhett didn’t look any worse for the wear. He was still a bit sore, but the bullet had gone clean through the muscle, missing the bone entirely. With luck he would be completely healed in no time.

They made small talk as they headed back to the store and the apartment above it. Link found himself distracted from any conversation Rhett attempted to have, and it was painfully obvious. About halfway back, the shopkeeper couldn’t take it anymore.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “Did something happen while I was in the hospital? The store didn’t burn down, did it?” Link couldn’t look his boyfriend in the eye but kept his gaze down as they continued along.

“No, I mean, the store is fine. I just… Someone came by asking for you. Well, asking for Woodrow, actually.”

“Friend of Mr. Stevens?” Rhett asked, worried.

“I don’t think so. He said his name was Herman Stark-”

“From the Cotton Club?!” Rhett stopped in his tracks and Link now looked up at him, surprised.

“Well, _a_ club, why?” Instead of answering, Rhett asked another question.

“What did he want?”

“Uh, he wanted to hire you, er, Woodrow. To play at his club, I guess…”

“Really?! That’s great! All the best musicians play there. Wow. What did you tell him?” Link bit his lip, his gaze returning to his shoes. “Link?”

“I told him… I… “ He took a deep breath. “I told him I was Woodrow.” Silence. Link couldn’t take the suspense. He looked up, expecting Rhett’s face to be furious. Instead of anger, he just looked confused.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I just… did." Link shrugged. "He said he needed you tomorrow and if I didn’t say something I thought he’d find someone else. You can’t play tomorrow, you need to rest up. He said he was gonna pay a hundred dollars for just one performance.”

“Wow. Are you gonna do it?”

“I said I would…”

“What are you gonna sing?” Link looked at the other man, incredulously. He couldn’t understand why Rhett wasn’t shouting. He didn’t seem mad in the least.

“How can you be so calm about this? I pretended to be you. I stole your job… your dream.”

“You gonna play the guitar?” His voice remained calm, kind. Link sighed.

“No. I don’t know how. I sang that song you wrote. I know some others but I don’t know." Link chewed on his lip a moment. "I told him you were my partner. That you play the guitar while I sing and you wrote the song.”

“What did he say to that?”

“He said if you play the guitar, he’ll hire you too.”

“That’s great! We can be a duet. I’d love to hear you sing.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Link…” Rhett used his good hand to cup the Link’s jaw in his palm. “I know it’s been your dream to sing just as much as it’s been mine. I would never stand in the way of that. I just want you to be happy.”

“I still can’t believe I lied.” Smiling, Rhett leaned down and kissed the top of his boyfriend's head. 

“It’s alright. You can be Woodrow if you really want.” Link smiled, sheepishly. “Come on, let’s get going. It’s freezing out!”


	10. Chapter 10

Back at the shop, Link helped his friend up the stairs to the small apartment. Rhett was still wearing the clothes he had been shot in and they needed to be washed, badly. He started sliding out of his coat jacket but hissed from the sharp pain that shot up his arm as he did so.

“Let me help you,” Link offered. Rhett obediently held still as his friend eased the jacket off his left arm before going for the right. After examining the problem for a moment, he realized he’d have to take off the sling to get anywhere. Carefully, he slowly began to remove the sling, taking extra care not to hurt the arm it contained.

Once the sling was removed, Link was able to remove the jacket the rest of the way. Not really thinking about it, he pulled down the his boyfriend’s suspenders then proceeded to the shirt buttons, undoing them one by one. Rhett didn’t say anything but watched the Link's face, entranced by his elegant facial features as they scrunched up in concentration.

When all the buttons had been undone, Link slid the shirt down Rhett’s arms and tossed it aside. He leaned forward, looking at the bandage that covered the stitches.

“Does it hurt?”

“If I don’t move it much, it’s fine.” He shifted, slightly rubbed his eyes with the ball of his left hand. He hadn’t exactly been exerting himself that day, but he looked tired anyhow.

“You need to lie down. Let me help you to the bed.” Taking Rhett’s good arm, Link led him towards the foot of the bed. Using his toes, Rhett slid off both of his shoes and socks while Link propped him up by the elbow so he didn’t fall over. Then, with one hand, Rhett unbuckling his belt. It was awkward, doing things with his non-dominant hand. After struggling for a moment, his boyfriend took over, easily sliding the leather strap from its loops and dropping it to the floor.

As he went to undo the buttons on the other man’s pants, Link noticed his companion was slightly aroused and he glanced up with a curious expression. Rhett blushed.

“Heh, sorry,” he apologized. “You have very soft hands.” Link smirked before going back to the pants. Still trying to be gentle he slowly unbuttoned the pants. His fingers brushed up against Rhett’s crotch a bit more than they needed to and he could hear the taller man stifle a moan. Moving ever so slowly, Link undid the pants buttons before bringing his hands to the waistband.

“Link…” Rhett whispered.

Placing his thumbs under not only the pants but the underwear beneath, Link began to pull the two pieces of clothing down his boyfriend’s legs. Rhett’s erection bounced slightly as it was freed from its confines. Link smiled at it. It was only half hard and it already looked huge.

“Link…” Rhett whispered again. His face was quite pink but he didn’t move to cover himself. He just looked down at Link, unsure of what he should do. Sensing the taller man’s apprehension, Link stood up on his tip toes and kissed him softly on the lips.

“Shh,” he shushed as he pressed a soft but commanding palm against is boyfriend's chest. Rhett swallowed hard as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Link made sure he was comfortable before turning around and removing his own jacket.

Rhett couldn’t speak. All he could do was watch as his love undressed in front of him. Having that man touch him, undress him, was incredibly stimulating, but seeing the man remove his own clothing was even more amazing. His slim figure belied a toned body beneath his new clothes. When Link got down to his briefs, Rhett watched with hungry eyes as the last bit of cloth separating them was removed.

Link half turned, though not quite enough, and Rhett caught himself craning his neck to see more. Giggling, the shorter man pretended to be bashful, rotating his body back to hide himself. When he bent over to remove his socks, he could feel the other man’s gaze along his back side and it excited him.

When his socks were removed, he turned around, fully now, and Rhett took in the sight with wide eyes. His front was just as beautiful as the back, if not more so. Taking small steps, Link closed the gap between them again and brought his hands to the other man’s chest, running his fingers through his chest hair.

“Are you okay?”

“I, uh…” Rhett barely managed. Link brought their bodies together, lightly, and Rhett moaned more audibly this time.

“Do you want me to stop?” Link whispered. Rhett didn’t answer, but shook his head quickly. He brought one certain arm to Link’s waist, pulling him closer. Link pushed his body against Rhett, maneuvering him slowly onto the bed. Using one hand, and an elbow, Rhett pulled himself back until he was entirely up on the mattress and leaned lazily against the headboard. Link followed close behind.

He straddled Rhett, placing both of his hands behind the Rhett's head on the headboard. Once they were both reasonably comfortable, he kissed him, his lips dancing around the other man’s bearded lips.

After a moment, Rhett pulled back and Link moved his kisses to the man's neck.

“This is not helping me get any rest,” Rhett noted.

“Do you really want to sleep right now?” Link teased between kisses. Smiling, Rhett removed his wire frame glasses and set them on the nightstand beside them. Then, bringing his lips back to his lover, he began to pull him even closer.

Link rocked his hips, slowly at first, grinding himself against Rhett. His boyfriend groaned, his body thrusting up instinctively, desperate to feel more. After a minute or so, he pulled his head back again.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” His voice was nervous and Link cafuned his dirty blond hair to sooth him. “I don’t even know…” He stopped short, embarrassed by his virgin confession.

“It’s alright.” Link kissed the top of Rhett’s head before getting up. He went to the bathroom, the only partitioned part of the tiny apartment, and opened the medicine cabinet above the sink. When he returned to the bed, he was holding a small jar of Vaseline in his hand. Rhett looked at it, confused.

“What do you need with that?” He looked so genuinely innocent it made Link giggle as he unscrewed the top. With the now open jar in one hand. He crawled on the bed, crouch-walking until he was right in front of his boyfriend. He paused, looking serious now, as he gazed down as the naked man before him. Sighing happily, he remembered not too long ago when he thought he would never be able to be here, with him, like this. It was a dream come true and he felt he needed to say something to reassure him.

“Rhett I… If you don’t want to do this, I’ll understand, but I need you. I’ve needed you for so long. I want to… to feel you.” Rhett’s eyes widened, slightly, as he realized exactly what Link was asking. He licked his lips nervously before sitting up and placing his hands on the Link's arms, gently.

“I love you, Link. All I ever wanted was to make you happy. To make you feel good.” He bit his lip now, running a hand down his companion’s side until it rested on his hip. His green eyes watched his own thumb caress the skin there before lifting their gaze to meet beautiful blue orbs staring back. “Teach me how to make you feel good.” Raising his free hand, Link ran his fingers through Rhett’s beard then pulled his face forward, kissing him deeply. When he pulled back, he pushed Rhett's chest gently, motioning him to lie down again.

After dipping his fingers into the thick jelly, Link proceeded to apply the ointment all along Rhett’s ever hardening member. Rhett rolled his head back against the headboard, moaning with pleasure as his lover slowly rubbed his shaft up and down. Then, leaning forward over the taller man’s body, Link moved his still slick fingers to his own entrance. The jar fell to the floor and rolled away, forgotten.

Link used his dry hand to hold himself up just above Rhett’s torso, gently rubbing his lips over the larger man’s nipples as he used his finger to coat his entrance. A few seconds later he inserted first one, then another finger, stretching the taught muscles there and coating just inside. When he felt he was ready, he removed his digits and knelt up straight, waiting for Rhett to open his eyes.

Rhett felt Link pull away and when he didn’t return immediately he opened his eyes. Before him was his companion, gazing down at him, hungrily, on his knees between the Rhett's long, spread open legs. As soon as they made eye contact, the shorter man crawled forward, lining himself over the other man’s now fully erect member.

Link moved agonizingly slowly as he lowered himself onto his lover. He had done this before but this was Rhett’s first time, and he wanted to be gentle. Rhett brought his good arm up, his large hand grabbing the other man’s side and pulling him down. It may have been his first time, but he was hungry for more and he found he couldn’t wait.

Half way down, Link pulled back up before starting to bring himself up and down, rhythmically. Rhett thrust his pelvis against him, matching his rhythm. Every time Link came down, he moved Rhett's member farther into himself. When he took in all at he could, he groaned, loudly, reveling in the sensation of being filled by this man.

“Oh, Rhett,” Link muttered, the moment his lover hit a sensitive bundle of nerves inside. He leaned forward, rubbing his own erection against Rhett’s abdomen as he rocked back and forth, continuing to press that spot with the Rhett's cock. The taller man held his companion near, kissing him eagerly now that their mouths were close once again.

Soon he forgot all the pain in his arm, all the tiredness in his body. All Rhett could feel was Link on him, around him. He felt his lips, slowly sucking on his neck. He felt their bodies moving together in perfect harmony. As he got close to finishing, his fingers dug into the other man’s back, leaving marks on his skin, but Link didn’t care. He was close too.

Link buried his face in Rhett’s shoulder as he came, his whole body clenching hard as he shot pearly strands along the taller man’s stomach. Rhett came soon after, crying out his lover’s name in his deep, baritone voice and filling him with all that he had. Together they shuddered, riding out their orgasms, completely oblivious to anything but each other and the sensations of becoming one. When they were both finally and wonderfully spent, Link rolled off his boyfriend, grabbing his discarded shirt to wipe them both off, then he collapsed on the bed, exhausted.

Rhett’s fatigue was finally more than he could handle, he had just enough strength to kiss Link one last time as they cuddled on top of the covers before closing his eyes. He was ready for sleep to take him. Link purred happily as long arms wrapped around him from behind, holding him in a soft embrace. He, too, was soon to drift off to dream land.

Just before he was lost to unconsciousness, Rhett heard a soft, sweet voice whisper to him.

“I love you,” it said. Rhett squeezed Link tight.

“I love you too,” he whispered back. Then, at last, the two men let the pull of sleep take them away, together.


	11. Chapter 11

Rhett felt a sense of dejavu as he adjusted his dark tie. He was wearing the same blue-grey suit he wore the night he learned Link’s last name. As he checked himself out in his floor length mirror he noted the major difference from that evening making strange poses behind him..

“Can you see the stitches on this?” Link asked. He lifted up his arm to show where he had finished sewing a hole shut on the armpit of his shirt. Rhett grinned.

“It looks perfect.” He turned around and grasped his boyfriend by the shoulders, gently. “ _You_ look perfect.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s always true.” Link couldn’t help but blush at that. Even after all this time, Rhett never ceased to make him feel special.

“Uh oh,” he muttered, checking his watch. “We’re gonna be late. You ready to go?” Rhett grabbed his trilby from the coat rack and placed it on his head before grabbing his coat jacket.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” The shorter man picked up a the guitar case from the corner and handed it to him.

“Don’t forget this,” he chuckled.

“Right. I kinda need that.” He took the case, giving Link a swift peck on the cheek as he took it. “I guess I’m just nervous.” Link shook his head as he put on his own coat.

“What do you have to be nervous about? You’d played in front of a crowd before. Remember?”

“Yea, but not since my arm healed up.” He rotated his shoulder and flexed his elbow, as if to test it was, in fact, all better.

“Well I’m sick of performing with a stranger. I only ever want to perform with you.”

“Oh yeah?” Rhett chuckled as they headed down the stairs to the shop below. “You want to play with the real Woodrow?” Link rolled his eyes. It had taken a bit of explaining to Mr. Stark that James Woodrow wasn’t a real person. In the end, they told him it was Mr. Neal's stage name but he wanted to use his real name from now on. It wasn’t true, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was one Rhett McLaughlin and one Link Neal would be performing at the Cotton Club tonight, and they were both very excited.

“Come on, Woody," Link quipped. "Get those long legs moving.” Together the two men made their way to the curb and quickly flagged down a cab. Link had been performing at the Club for a few weeks now and had earned enough cash to justify splurging on transportation rather than walking the whole way. It was a nice change from the long walk across town and he knew he could easily get used to it.

After he got into the car, Rhett slid in next to him, his guitar case close behind. They exchanged a quick glance as they settled into place before Rhett told the cab driver where to take them. They rode in silence the whole way, both filled to the brim with butterflies.

~~~

Inside the club it was like a ballroom; walls lined with tables and chairs, each surrounded by chatting people. The stage was empty except for a single stool and twin microphones. Everything was set, just waiting for them to begin. Rhett and Link slipped into the back room, avoiding the crowds, to meet the music coordinator.

“Evening boys,” the short, chubby man greeted as they approached. “Glad to see you made it.” He took Rhett’s hand first, shaking it firmly. “And it’s good to meet you, sir. I’m Joseph. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m looking forward to hearing you play.”

“Thanks,” Rhett responded. “I hope the people like me.”

“I’m sure they will,” Link assured him. He took off his hat and set it on the hook on the wall by the door. “I’m the one who should be worried. All the guys and gals are going to be hurling themselves at you by the end of the night.” Rhett chuckled, shaking his head at the thought.

As Rhett was making sure his guitar was tuned just right and his boyfriend did his usual vocal exercises, another man entered the room. Rhett’s eyes lit up at the sight of him.

“Bobby!” he exclaimed. He and Robert hugged, awkwardly around the guitar, before pulling apart. “I haven’t seen you in ages! Where’ve you been?”

“You know me,” Robert smirked. “I can’t sit still for a moment.”

“Link, this is my old friend, Robert Patel.” Link shook Robert’s hand and nodded in greeting. “You remember, right? You met him the same night we uh, met.”

“Oh! Right. I remember now. If I recall, it was your idea that Rhett come visit Connie’s. I’m grateful to you.”

“Did you come to hear us play, Bobby?” Rhett looked at his old friend, expectantly. Robert had a glint in his eye and couldn’t seem to stop grinning.

“Well of course. I couldn’t very well miss seeing my stars’ opening night, now could I?”

“ _Your_ stars?”

“Who do you think told Mr. Stark about your playing? I’ve been working here for awhile, mostly just organizing talent, you know. Lotta big names come through here, thanks to me. When the big cheese wants someone, I make it happen.” He puffed out his chest, obviously very proud of his status with the boss. Link held back a sigh, but Rhett was enthralled.

“But why me? I’m nobody.”

“I heard you play at the 300 Club and I was impressed. Then, not long after, the boss says he wants something new and I immediately thought of you. You are the new up and coming star, my friend. You and your friend here.” He motioned to Link. “When he showed up instead of you, I knew he wasn’t what Mr. Stark was asking for, but I thought I’d give him a chance. Turns out he’s quite the singer too.”

“I guess I owe you a lot then,” Link observed. “You gave me the chance to do what I’ve always loved.”

“All that I ask is that you take my friend Rhett here with you on your way to the top.”

“You have my word on that,” Link promised with a smile.

The two performers played all the songs they knew that night, many of which they had written themselves both individually and together over the past few months. Though they had practiced in the privacy of Rhett’s apartment, it had been nothing compared to playing live at the Cotton Club. Their voices melded in perfect harmony and the crowd adored them. By the end of the night, they were exhausted but they didn’t care. They felt like they were walking on air.

As they were gathering their things and saying goodbye to everyone, the two men were almost ready to head out when there was a bit of commotion in the main hall. From the mutterings of the shuffling crowd, Link gathered that some cops had showed up at the joint. Since the Cotton Club was in the business of serving alcohol despite prohibition, this could be disastrous.

“We should get out of here,” he suggested and Rhett was in total agreement. They weren’t here for the booze and didn’t want to get mixed up with the police. Before they could make their exit, however, two intimidating men in uniforms entered the back room, blocking their way.

“Mr. McLaughlin?” one asked. Nervous, but not wanting to lie to the officer, Rhett nodded. “Could you come with us to the station sir?”

“What’s this about?” Link asked, ready to start a fuss if the cops wanted to take his boyfriend without just cause.

“You’re not in trouble sir. We need you to identify someone.”

“Who?” Rhett wondered.

“We think we found the guy who shot you, Sir.”

~~~

Down at the station Rhett was corralled into a tiny viewing booth. Link hadn’t been allowed to accompany him and they both felt insecure without the other by their side in this depressing place. One of the officers that had picked them up at the club was in the room with Rhett, but he didn’t make much acknowledgement of the shopkeeper’s presence. He just seemed to be waiting.

After a few minutes a door opened on the other side of the two-way mirror. A few men Rhett didn’t know were paraded in front of him followed by one man he did know. At the very end of the line was Mr. Stevens, looking a bit scuffed and just as angry as he always did.

The officer beside Rhett motioned towards the line of men.

“Mr. McLaughlin,” he began. “Are any of these men the man who shot you?” Rhett didn’t hesitate a single second. He pointed right at Mr. Stevens.

“That’s him. Stevens.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’d know him anywhere. He made my friend’s life a living hell _and_ he tried to kill me. That’s him.”

“Would you be willing to testify to that effect?”

“Absolutely.” Satisfied, the officer nodded. He pushed a small button on the wall next to an intercom.

“We have a match, sergeant.”

“How did you find him, anyhow?” Rhett inquired as he was let back to the waiting room. 

“We got a tip from some blonde woman. Apparently he tried hiding out at her place. He roughed her up a bit and she called the cops. Her name was Valerie or Vicky... Something like that.”

“Brave woman.”

“Indeed.”

Back in the waiting room, Link was sitting down on a cold, wooden bench watching his leg nervously jiggle up and down. It felt like ages before Rhett reappeared and he jumped to his feet to greet him.

“What happened?” Link asked. “Was it him?”

“It was him alright. There’s going to be a trial, but they tell me it’ll be a short one, especially if you testify too.”

“Gladly. That man deserves to be in the deepest hole they can put him in for what he’s done.”

“I’m just happy we don’t have to worry about him coming up on us in a dark alleyway anymore. He’s going away for a long time.” Rhett wrapped his arms around Link and held him close. “It’s all going to be over soon. I promise.” 

~~~

As it turned out, Rhett was right. The trial was practically a formality. While Mr. Stevens had been arrested for attempted murder, the plaintiff used this opportunity to bring the man up on other charges. It turned out Link wasn’t the only employee that his former boss had mistreated. As events unfolded, more and more employees, both past and present, came forward to tell their own terrible tales of working for that horrible man.

By the time it was Link’s turn to take the stand, Rhett had heard more than he ever wanted to about Mr. Steven’s exploitation of his staff. He watched as his friend and lover placed a hand on the bible, swearing to tell nothing but the truth. Link looked nervous, but determined. He was scared, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him.

He began slowly, telling his hard-luck story about being down and out, needing money for rent and things. Like many others, he had been offered what had seemed like salvation from Mr. Stevens; a job with decent pay and a roof to put over his head. Then, as Rhett knew it would, the story took its inevitable dark turn.

Rhett gripped his pant legs tightly as he listened to Link talk about what Mr. Stevens did to him. He wanted just to hold his lover’s hand as he spoke of such awful deeds, to hold him close and make everything alright. While Link had avoided some of the more intimate acts the boss had saved for the female members of the staff, the things he did make Link do were quite bad enough.

Half way through his story, Link’s eyes began to water. Rhett bit his lip to silence any outburst he might have shouted. He wanted this to stop. He wanted to make the plaintiff stop asking the man questions that obviously brought up painful memories, but he knew it _had_ to continue. Mr. Stevens needed to be brought to justice and, for that to happen, people had to know what he did, what he was capable of doing again.

When he was finally finished, Link slumped in the witness chair, looking down dejectedly. The shame of what he had been forced to do weighed down on him. He felt disgusting, like he had the first time Mr. Stevens had asked him to do those terrible things. When the judge told him he could step down, he slunk back to his seat beside Rhett. Only once he felt the warm arm of his boyfriend around him did he feel better.

There were a few more testimonies to listen to, each similar to those who came before. Woman who were forced to have sex with their boss in order to keep their jobs, jobs that they needed. Men who were forced to pleasure Mr. Stevens with their hands and mouths under similar threats. Link's friend and colleague Vicky was there, telling her own tales of the brutality inflicted on her. She and Link exchanges knowing glances at one point and he gave her the most reassuring smile he could muster. 

The entire time Mr. Stevens sat next to his defense attorney, not making eye contact with any of his former victims. He just sat there, fuming, as if this was all beneath him. Oh how Rhett wished he could storm over there and beat that man senseless. He deserved so much worse for what he had done to Link. What he had made him do.

After all the witnesses and victims told their stories, including Rhett who spoke briefly about his own brief encounters, the judge released the jury to deliberate. As they waited for the verdict, the two shopkeepers held hands, each trying not to think about the chance that Mr. Stevens would get off without paying for his many crimes.

When the jury returned, not too long after, the entire courtroom waited with bated breath. Rhett held onto Link, as if to protect him from the possibility of a not guilty verdict, not noticing Link was doing the same to him. The foreman of the jury was speaking, but they could barely hear him. His words meant nothing until he said the one word they had been so desperate to hear.

“Guilty.” A round of applause rang out in the courtroom. Guilty for assault, guilty for attempted murder, guilty on all counts. He was going to jail for a very long time. Link hugged Rhett tightly, now letting his tears fall freely down his face. It was over.

“I’m free, Rhett,” he whispered, between soft sobs of joy. “I’m finally free.”


	12. Epilogue

A warm breeze blew through the branches of the giant maple tree, rustling the leaves gently above the sleeping blond man below. He looked so serene as he rested there, leaning against the massive trunk, completely at peace and uncaring about the world around him. Beside him was a glass with a straw, half filled with lemonade and ice.

He didn’t stir as the sound of tires rolling to a stop entered his ears, slightly rousing him from his light slumber. He didn’t move an inch at the slam of a car door. A cheeky grin did stretch across his face, betraying his awakened status, as the sound of heavy footsteps stepping over grass grew nearer to his resting place.

“I thought you were going to be unpacking while I was gone,” said a voice, trying to sound annoyed. Rhett opened his eyes. The love of his life, a blue-eye brunet, was looking down at him, trying to hide a loving smile. Link wanted to be mad, but the taller man looked so beautiful under the shade of the maple tree.

“I was,” Rhett responded, not moving his hands from their folded position. “I unpacked the dishes in the kitchen. I’m was just taking a break until you got back.” Link shifted his weight. He was holding a fairly large cardboard box in his arms marked ‘bathroom’. He glanced at the house before turning back.

“You unpacked _all_ of the dishes?”

“Yup.”

“And put them away?”

“Uh… not exactly.” Rhett chuckled. “In my defense, I didn’t know where you wanted them," he added quickly. "You know I can’t make any decisions on my own anymore.” Link let himself smile now, unable to hold it back. His boyfriend could be so cute when he was being a pain. “Why don’t you put those down and sit with me.” Rhett patted the grass next to him.

“We really need to finish moving these boxes…”

“We’ve been hauling boxes all day. I think we’ve earned a break.” He patted the grass again. After some hesitation, Link gave in. Setting the heavy box on the ground nearby, he sighed and sauntered over to his companion. He plopped himself down right next to the other man who immediately laid his head on his shoulder.

“This is nice,” he admitted, after a few moments. Rhett didn’t speak but hummed in agreement. They sat, in silence, looking over the yard in which they now sat. Their gaze crossed over the lawn, lined with neatly trimmed grass, to the two story house painted a soft blue shade.

It was a hot august, a few years since the trial that had put the awful Mr. Stevens behind bars and the two men had saved up every dollar they made. Now, using money they made from their collective music careers and the profits from the corner store, they were able to put enough together to buy a house in the suburbs. Today they were finally moving in, together, into a real home. It was a dream come true.

“It will be even nicer when all our stuff is unpacked inside,” Link noted, softy. Rhett grabbed the man’s hand and held it in his own.

“I don’t care what things are in it as long as you are there with me.”

“You always say such corny things, you know that?”

“I’m just old fashioned I guess.” He lifted his head to smirk and Link kissed his lips. It was supposed to be a short, chaste peck but Rhett tasted wonderfully of lemonade and sweat. He cupped the man’s beard in his hand to pull him closer and he responded eagerly. For a moment they completely forgot about the boxes that still needed to be taken from the moving van they had rented.

When Link finally pulled away, he inhaled deeply and let it out slowly.

“You know, once we’ve finished unpacking, we can take a nice, long nap in the new bed. Won’t it be nice to sleep in a bed big enough for the two of us for a change?” He cocked an eyebrow, suggestively.

“A nap, you say?” Rhett looked his boyfriend up and down, hopeful. “What if I’m not tired?”

“I still think we should try out the bed. Break it in, you know? What do you say?” Rhett blushed. Even after all these years, Link could always turn the Rhett's face varying shades of pink.

“I guess we better get unpacking.” He stood, quickly, taking up his beverage as he did. Link glanced at the glass, curiously.

“You made lemonade?” he asked as he picked up the large box once more. Rhett nodded.

“I did. Want some?” He tilted the glass towards Link who gladly accepted the straw into his mouth and took a quick swig. It felt very refreshing in the heat of the afternoon sun.

“Not bad. Now grab a box. This should be the last trip and then I can take the van back.”

When they finally got in all the boxes into the house, and Link had returned the moving van, they settled in the bedroom, removing shoes and pants before lying down in their underwear on the huge king-sized mattress that took up most of the room.

“Let’s unpack tomorrow, I’m too tired.” He closed his eyes and placed his head back against the headboard.

“Too tired for… anything?” Link asked. Rhett’s eyes opened slightly and he grinned.

“I’m not sure. What did you have in mind?” His boyfriend giggled and slid off the bed, heading towards the bathroom.

“I’ll be right back.” He ducked into the small room, going right for the medicine cabinet. They had not unpacked everything, but he made sure they had the essentials. Beside the toothpaste and shaving cream sat a familiar jar. It had been awhile since they made love. They had been too busy with the move and with all the gigs they had been getting recently. Mr. Patel kept them well booked every week.

Grabbing the jar, Link headed back into the bedroom. As he crawled back into bed beside his lover, he looked over to see the man completely asleep. Link smiled and sighed, softly.

“Too tired, I guess.” Link placed the Vaseline on the nightstand before taking Rhett’s glasses off for him and setting them beside the jar. He placed a kiss on the top of his boyfriend’s head. He wasn’t mad. It had been a long day and Rhett looked so sweet when he was asleep.

“Sleep tight, my love,” he whispered, covering them both in the bed comforter. “I can wait a few hours more. We have all the time in the world.” He snuggled up close to the sleeping man, holding him close in a gentle embrace. Within minutes he, too, drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the morning and the years they had yet to spend together.


End file.
